Six Months of Summer
by Apollo888
Summary: She said it was over. He grudgingly agreed. They left each other, only to be thrown together again in a different time and place. After declaring almost everything about them was all wrong, can they possibly find a way back to make it all right? A Mary and Matthew modern AU saga. First in the Celebrity series, followed by Stormbraver.
1. Chapter 1

**Six Months of Summer**

 **GoodLife Fitness, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

"Come on, Matthew! Come on, you little bitch! Come on, you fucking pussy! Come on! Do it!"

Matthew groaned, grimacing as he pushed the bar slowly up off of his chest and extended his arms. A group of men gathered around watching him, one of them supposed to be spotting him through the exercise, but who instead seemed to be delighting in his suffering.

"Take it!" Matthew hissed, his arms shaking as his elbows threatened to give out, the bar suspended about halfway from full extension.

"No fucking way," came the reply from the spotter, balancing his hands underneath the bar but refusing to assist. "Push it up! Come on!"

Grunting from the effort, Matthew raised the bar the remaining inches and straightened his arms, pausing for a millisecond before his spotter finally took the bar from him and placed it back on the brackets of the bench.

"225, not bad, Matthew," the spotter noted, nodding his head and smiling as Matthew sat up and shot him a threatening glare.

"You lot are going to kill me one of these days," Matthew grumbled, shaking his head.

The boys laughed as they gathered around him, giving him their congratulations on hitting a new bench press personal best. Smiling ruefully, he went over to the wall and stretched out his arms and chest, then rejoined the group, picked up his water bottle from the floor and took a swig.

"Well, here's to rejoining the ranks of the unemployed!" one man said, raising his water bottle to his fellows. "Anyone got any plans?"

A few of them had jobs waiting for them in other cities. Most of them said they'd be heading back home now and wait for their agents to find them something. They were all living here temporarily, brought to one of the largest cities in North America to play roles in the chorus of the musical production of _Beauty and the Beast_. With the show's run now over, their services were no longer required and that meant searching for their next job. It was a rather transient existence, with work being relatively unsteady and no idea when their next contract would come in, but they were all used to it after years in the industry. Besides, leaving Toronto wasn't so bad. Though the city was spectacular, it was one of the most expensive cities in the world, and trying to get by on a meagre non-lead actor's salary was hardly easy, or fun.

"What about you, Matthew?" another man asked.

"I've got some money left over from that commercial I did, and there's a few auditions that I'm hoping to get called on," Matthew said. "I'll probably hang around for a month or two and see what comes up. If not, it's back to Manchester."

"Ah, well, United's season'll be over by then if you don't get back soon," one man noted.

"Doesn't matter. They've been rubbish anyway," Matthew complained.

"Figure that Van Gaal will get the sack, do you?" another asked.

"Guaranteed. They can't bring him back, can they? Even if they do qualify for the Champions League," Matthew replied. "They're just waiting until the end of the season. Mourinho will be in charge next year, I'd bet."

"That's a disaster just waiting to happen," one of the men laughed.

"Not necessarily. He's usually quite good in his first year at a club. You know, when he went to Madrid…" Matthew began.

"Hey, hey, check it out, there's my future ex-wife!" the spotter called out, pointing to one of the large television screens on the wall.

The men turned to see what he was talking about. As it was just mid-morning, the televisions were set to either sports highlights, the all-day news channel, or the all-day entertainment channel. He was apparently gesturing to the entertainment channel as a tall woman with dark brown hair was seen standing on a red carpet, a mob of paparazzi firing their cameras away at her, the flashbulbs doing nothing to faze her sharp eyes and sophisticated smile. The caption across the bottom of the screen told the tale as the volume on all the televisions was turned down in favour of dance music.

' _Best Dressed from Awards Season: Mary Crawley'_

Matthew frowned as a series of videos flashed onscreen, showing Mary wearing various designer dresses at different awards shows over the past month – the Primetime Emmys, the SAG Awards, the Golden Globes, even the BAFTAs back in London. She looked spectacular in all of them, the pose similar each time, her body turned slightly to the side, hand on her hip, chin raised just so, eyes playful, and above all, an elegant smile that was neither too snobby, nor too enthusiastic.

"She's so fucking hot," another man said reverently, shaking his head.

"Those legs…shit…" another exclaimed.

"So can you hook me up, Matthew?" the spotter asked, smiling at him.

Matthew blinked in confusion as he turned away from the television. "What? No, I…no. Why…how would I?"

"Well, she's your cousin, or whatever, right?" the spotter asked.

"Mary? No, we're not…we're not cousins. We're not related. We knew each other back in England. Our families knew each other. My Dad was good friends with her Dad, but that was years ago," Matthew explained, still frowning.

"Oh, so do you still keep in touch? Her show films here in the city," the spotter said, his voice tinged with disappointment.

"No, we're not in touch," Matthew said curtly, shaking his head and turning away, bringing the water bottle to his lips. "I haven't spoken to Mary in forever."

 **The Carlu, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

The security guard paced slowly back and forth along the carpeted floor of the immense lobby. All morning there had been people running around, moving equipment in and out of one of the large ballrooms, scrambling around talking into their phones and yelling at each other from one end of the space to the other. Some big client had rented out the entire floor for the day, and from what he saw, he guessed it was for a photoshoot. He continued on his usual rectangular tour of the event space, hoping that maybe he'd get a glimpse of one of the models. Then again, with his luck it could be a children's toy campaign and he'd have to put up with screaming babies all day.

His mood brightened when the elevator doors opened and a petite blonde came walking out at a brisk pace. Her hair was tied up in a tight bun, and she was wearing all the trademarks of someone important. Form fitting navy blazer jacket and matching skirt that stopped above her knees. Blue heels, not too tall to be slutty, but still tall enough to show off the muscles of her pretty legs. Smartphone stuck to one ear. Tablet tucked under one arm. He would have guessed she was an aide of some sort until he noticed the sparkling diamond ring on her finger and the Rolex on her wrist. Those trinkets were decidedly uncommon for assistants, so who was she? He ambled over to her, determined to find out.

"Good morning, miss, how may I help you?" he asked as she approached him, taking on an authoritative, but still as friendly a tone as he could manage.

"Anna Smith, assistant to Mary Crawley," Anna said crisply, lowering her phone for a moment to give the guard her name.

He checked his list, trying to stall for as long as he could. The advantage to being taller than her was that he had a nice view of the creamy skin of her neck and collarbone while he flipped the pages.

"Yes, Miss Smith," he said finally, nodding his head and giving her a warm smile. "They're right in there."

"Thank you," Anna said, nodding and walking away quickly in the indicated direction, bringing the phone back up to her ear.

He smiled and shook his head as he got a sweet view of her from behind. Rather pleased with himself, he strolled away, his day having gone much better already.

* * *

The sunlight streamed into the ballroom through the tall windows along one wall. Slightly behind schedule, Anna ignored the bustling street below and moved briskly to the far side of the room, where a temporary dressing area had been set up behind a wall of privacy screens. She dodged past crewmembers setting up the spotlights and brushing off the antique settee arranged in the middle of the room that would serve as the main prop for the photo shoot.

"Yes, Lady Rosamund, we're running a bit late but we built in an extra hour just in case," Anna said into her phone, her tone even and professional. "Yes, ma'am, we were here early. The photographer got a bit lost, it seems. No, ma'am, the magazine knows it wasn't our fault. Yes, the television crew is here. We're going to do a quick hit for them and it should be on tomorrow's broadcast. Yes, it's a Canadian show but the magazine cover will go all across the United States. She'll be on magazine stands everywhere and on the website. Yes, ma'am, I'll have her call you later. Good morning, Lady Rosamund."

Anna hung up the call and smirked as she stepped behind the privacy screens and tucked her phone back into the pocket of her blazer jacket.

"Your aunt says good luck," she called out as she headed over to the makeshift hair, makeup and wardrobe area.

"I doubt that highly. It was probably closer to 'don't fuck this up'" Mary replied, looking straight ahead at her reflection in the mirror as the stylist applied the finishing touches to her hair. It fell past her shoulders in long waves, with the ends curled loosely. Her makeup was already finished. Mary didn't usually use a lot of cosmetics, just enough to emphasize her alabaster skin and perfectly thin eyebrows. For this photoshoot, most of the attention would be on the brilliant diamond teardrop earrings provided to her and the diamond choker around her neck.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked Anna, turning her head side-to-side as she appraised her look.

"You look gorgeous," Anna said, smiling and nodding cheerfully. "This is going to be big, just the thing to build up the buzz for the new season."

"God, I hope so," Mary said, sighing as she stood up and undid the belt of her robe. "We're three seasons in now. The novelty's worn off and while our established base is intensely loyal, we need to draw in the casual viewers to give us legs for the coming years."

"Now you're sounding like Lady Rosamund," Anna joked, laughing and shaking her head.

Mary rolled her eyes.

"Excuse me, Lady Mary, if you could just take off your robe," the makeup girl asked meekly.

"Of course, and please, just call me Mary," Mary replied, giving the girl a kind smile.

Anna watched as Mary removed her robe and dropped it on to the chair behind her, standing up straight, her arms at her sides. The makeup girl went about the task of applying tape to Mary's bare breasts, and makeup to cover the tape and match the pale skin tone. Mary stood still as the makeup girl did her job with robotic efficiency, finally putting her robe back on and tying the sash once the work was declared complete.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that, no matter how many times I see it," Anna said, turning and walking with Mary out of the dressing area. "You're sure it isn't uncomfortable?"

"I've gotten used to it," Mary replied drily. "Besides, better to endure a few moments of discomfort than let Henry get a real peek. His imagination is already bad enough as it is."

Anna nodded in agreement as they came on to the set. Mary put on a brilliant smile as the reporter from _Entertainment Weekly_ magazine came over and greeted her breathlessly.

 **House of Gourmet Chinese Restaurant, Chinatown, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

"What is this, again?" the man asked Matthew, looking at the food on the table with a mix of suspicion and disgust.

"BBQ pork, fried tofu with Chinese broccoli, hot and sour soup, chicken fried rice," Matthew recited, pointing to each dish. "I don't see why you're so scared. This is tame compared to other items on the menu."

"I was just hoping we'd grab a burger, or Chipotle, or something," he replied, stabbing at a piece of tofu with his fork.

"This is cheaper for the amount of food you get," Matthew said, using chopsticks to take a slice of pork and bring it to his bowl. "And, it'll fill me up for the rest of the day."

"The glamorous life of an actor. Cheap Chinese food in the middle of the day. Shit, we must be crazy to live like this, all to chase some stupid dream," the man said ruefully, glancing around at the decided lack of décor in the restaurant and the waiters scurrying about. Fine dining, this was not.

"All it takes is one big break," Matthew said, sounding more optimistic than he felt.

"Even after you make it big, you'll still be eating at places like these, right?" his friend asked.

"Probably. They're open late," Matthew replied.

The man laughed and picked up his can of Coke.

"Well, cheers Matthew, it's been good working with you. Hopefully run into you again when we're both on the big screen someday. Best of luck," he said.

"Same to you," Matthew said gamely, raising his cup of jasmine tea in reply, then taking a sip as they continued with their lunch.

 **The Carlu, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

"If we could just get a casual shot of the both of you before we start. We'll post it on Instagram and Twitter to promote the TV interview," the reporter said, raising her phone and pointing it towards Mary and Henry.

"Smile, darling," Henry said quietly, putting his arm around her waist. "The fans love seeing photos of us happy together."

Mary grinned and turned slightly towards Henry, putting her hand on his chest.

"Perfect. Perfect. You guys look great!" the reporter gushed, taking the photo and handing her phone to an assistant to take care of posting it to social media. "Okay, I'll start with Lady Mary, and Henry, you can just wait over there."

"Will do. Have fun, darling," Henry said, kissing her cheek as he released her and walked over to the other side of the room where the table of fruit, snacks and drinks was set up.

Mary smiled and pulled the neck of her robe closer together as the reporter watched Henry go with a dreamy smile on her face. Returning to Mary, she took out a second phone and turned on the recorder.

"Okay, so Mary, first about the show – you're shooting the fourth season of _Paladin_ now and fans are eagerly anticipating it. You started as a bit of a cult hit in season one and now you've got more of a mainstream following. Do you feel that you're more legitimate now, more accepted by the general public?"

"Yes, I do," Mary nodded. "Because we're a cable show, I think the standard for what constitutes success and popularity is different compared to network shows, but we've always been different. We're not a period show, but we have elements of the medieval version of what a Paladin is, with the code and the morals, and the dueling, and we're not entirely a supernatural or fantasy show either, because it's set in modern times, so I think maybe at the beginning, people didn't know how to classify us, and so the fans who read the books were onboard, but it took a while for people to just appreciate the show itself, to judge us on what we do, rather than compare us to anything else that's out there. Now we're really hitting our stride, I think. There's a lot of excitement coming into this season."

"After the cliffhanger at the end of season three, everyone of course wants to know who your character – Jade – will choose as her champion. It seemed she was leaning towards Frederick, but there was a hint that maybe Solomon still had a chance? What do you think?"

"Well, I think that she's fighting herself a bit," Mary explained, choosing her words carefully. "Everyone wants her to choose Frederick, both on the show and among the fans, but a part of her likes what Solomon represents. He's stable and safe, and respectful. I know some fans think he's boring, but part of her likes how simple her life is when she's with him. She and Frederick, they're so volatile, right? They're at each other's throats all the time, whereas I don't think she's ever had a single argument with Solomon. But no question she finds Frederick to be quite exciting, more take charge, so she's conflicted. That's what I love about playing her. She's quite complex. When you think you've got her figured out, she goes and does something that is so surprising, and our writers are so talented at throwing these twists at her and coming up with different ways for her to react. She's a blast to play, really."

"I'll selfishly say I hope she chooses Frederick!" the reporter gushed. "He's so hot, which brings me to the relationship between you and Henry. Your characters have such amazing chemistry onscreen and the two of you seem to get along really well offscreen, as well. Does that help, when you're acting opposite someone that you're so close to?"

Mary fought the urge to roll her eyes and barely succeeded.

"Henry and I have known each other for a long time," she said carefully. "We're used to each other and we know how to play off of each other and show the characters interacting in a way that moves the story along. Obviously we spend several months a year working together every day, so of course we're quite used to each other by now and I think that translates on the screen, that sort of comfort level."

"It must make the love scenes so much easier when you're comfortable with your partner. That was one of the things that everyone was talking about from season one – how hot the sex scenes were. I mean, Henry's gorgeous, so that must be a really fun perk for you!"

Mary gave her a tight smile. She'd gotten used to this question over the years. It was so predictable, as was her rehearsed answer.

"He's nice to look at, yes," she agreed, smiling and laughing just enough to make her sound believable. "And we wanted to be faithful to the way the relationship is shown in the books, because they are very passionate people, the two of them. That comes across when they fight, whether together against the demons or against each other, and of course there's always this tension between them. It's a challenge to portray those different dynamics and get it right, and make sure the focus is on the characters and the story. I don't think any of the love scenes are gratuitous, so while they do get a lot of attention, it's more about how do I bring the character to life in a way that connects with the audience."

"Well, millions of women would love to trade places with you during some of those scenes!" the reporter cackled. "Now, a few questions about you. A lot of people over here in North America don't know that you actually come from an acting family. Your grandmother, of course, the great Violet Crawley, two-time Oscar winner, and your mother, Cora, was on _Coronation Street_ for years. Is there any pressure on you to live up to what they did?"

"I put a lot of pressure on myself as it is," Mary answered candidly. "Granny and Mum don't really get involved in my career, which is great. I can go to them if I need to, but they want me to sort of rise or fall on my own merit, so I'm quite proud of my family history, but I'm trying to make it on my own, as it were. That's why the show was such a great opportunity and I jumped at the chance. I'd been doing plays and smaller things back home in England, but to come over and shoot a pilot for North American television was a big risk, and I think it's turned out great. Let's hope it continues."

"Right, right," the reporter said, nodding enthusiastically. "All right, I think that's all for now. We'll just have you and Henry start out on the settee and the photographer will give you directions from there."

"Right," Mary said, nodding and going over to the settee.

"All right, let's do this," Henry teased as he came to her side. He took a seat on the settee, stretching his legs out and leaning back against the curved arm covered in plush cloth. He undid his robe and cast it aside, smiling up at Mary as he got comfortable.

She pursed her lips as she straddled his bare thighs, careful to avoid the modesty patch covering his genitals. In the three years that they'd been starring opposite each other, she'd seen him in this state of almost-nakedness countless times. His lack of any real clothing did not bother her nearly as much as the fact that she knew he enjoyed parading around like this.

"There you go. Hop on and get comfortable, darling," he said, leering up at her.

She avoided his eyes and removed her robe. An assistant came forward and adjusted her skirt, ensuring there was plenty of thigh visible. Henry reached forward and took hold of her, his one hand across her hip, the other sneaking down and cupping the exposed curve of her bottom.

"Ah, perfect," he said, grinning wide. "Now this is a winning cover shot."

She looked right at him, quelling the disgust and fury in her stomach and focusing on the job. It wasn't hard to give him a fiery stare under the circumstances, and as the photographer snapped away and the reporter called out encouragement, she reminded herself that this was all in the name of promoting the show, and in turn, her own career. She arched her back and put her arms across his shoulders, ignoring his hand on her ass as the click of the camera droned on in the background. The racy photographs would give the appearance that they were locked in an intimate embrace, though since they were out of costume, there was no real indication that they were in-character. That was of course done deliberately, blurring the line between their characters and themselves, fueling the rabid fantasy of the two of them being together in real life. The very idea was a complete joke to Mary, and a horrid one at that, but she couldn't deny that the show was built on the relationship between the two main characters, and in today's 24-hour news and gossip cycle, the beast needed to be fed with fresh content for everyone to devour. Putting the both of them in the spotlight was a convenient way to keep the show, and themselves, in the public eye until fresh episodes could air and the cycle begin all over again.

"And lean in a bit," the photographer called. "Just do what you two normally do."

"No problem," Henry said, grinning at her. "We've got loads of practice, don't we, darling?"

He lifted his chin and parted his lips, his eyes moving down to her mouth. She moved closer to him, mimicking the same gesture until they were practically sharing the same air. As she usually did when she kissed him on camera, she immediately thought of other, far more pleasant thoughts, such as the time that he fell during a stunt and cried like a little child for close on ten minutes.

"They must be totally banging each other, their connection is so hot," the reporter whispered to Anna, giddy with excitement as the photographer guided Mary and Henry through various positions and poses, all of them provocative and suggestive. Mary's breasts were often shot from the side, or pressed against Henry's chest, to cover up the strategically placed patches. Though she knew the truth of Mary's feelings towards Henry, or the lack thereof, even Anna had to admit that the couple did look quite sexy clinched together like this.

"No comment," Anna replied, checking her phone and counting the minutes until they were due to be done.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

' _Elena, the girl you beat half to death, her life's gonna go on. Yours is gonna end right here on this funky floor over $9800 dollars. You should have taken the money.'_

"Elena, the girl you beat half to death….the _gurl_ you beat half to death… _ha-af_ to death…" Matthew repeated, looking at himself in the mirror, trying to replace his English accent with an American one. He swiped his tablet and restarted the scene, looking back at the mirror as he practised his accent once again. After going over that line, and others in his playlist of television and movie clips, for an hour, he left for the kitchen and got a bottle of water from the fridge, bringing it over to the living room windows before opening it and taking a sip.

He stared out the window on to the street below. One of the things he liked about this building was that it was a low-rise, being older than the towering condo skyscrapers that had gone up all over the city seemingly constantly as of late. Though his view was rather obstructed by the glass and steel behemoths all around him, he liked being able to see the street and the people passing by actually resembled people rather than distant specks. The bustling entertainment sector was to the West, and the bank buildings of the financial district stood in the East, leaving him in this quiet wedge of downtown, with courthouses and hospitals and insurance companies and a remarkable amount of quiet in the evenings. He walked or biked everywhere, sometimes took the subway, the traffic being too dense to make driving efficient and he didn't have a car anyway. Each day he passed students, men in designer suits gabbing away on their smartphones, and tourists taking selfies or browsing through the shops and boutiques nearby. There was a beggar who sat on top of the heat vent across the street everyday asking for change, and a hot dog vendor on the corner who sold hot Italian sausages and soft drinks until 4 a.m. His neighbours were older couples and young families and they kept to themselves as much as he did. For a temporary abode, this was a lovely enclave. A family friend allowed him to use it, which saved him from sharing a cramped apartment in a worse part of town with roommates he didn't know.

It wasn't Manchester, or London. He still wasn't entirely used to the different coins and bills they used here, or that they drove on the wrong side of the road, and some of the words and phrases they used made no sense to him at all. But the city was vibrant and diverse, the food was incredible, people were friendly and he felt entirely safe at all hours. This was home.

He sighed as he looked at a group of lawyers deep in discussion as they walked back to the courthouse across the street. How different his life would have been had he gone to law school as his father wanted him to, rather than join a theatre company and pursue a career in acting. It was hard to explain what had driven him to make such a choice. It was so unlike him, so illogical and emotional, driven by the thrill of performing, of connecting with an audience, rather than any reasonable analysis of the pros and cons. Fame and fortune had never entered his mind back then. He liked the analytical side of it – the dissecting of a character, a script, figuring out how best to present a role in as poignant and powerful a way as possible. Every part he played was a challenge, a puzzle to be solved, and he attacked them with zest and relish. There was no feeling like knowing you'd nailed a role and seeing the reaction of the audience. It was a joy beyond words.

There were other parts of acting though, cold and ruthless parts that he became familiar with as he got better at his craft and began staking out a living doing what he loved. The business side, the socializing, the self-promotion, the subversive competition between thousands of actors vying for a single role – these all grated on him; how the industry wasn't based entirely on talent, how the rules seemed to change all the time, or didn't exist at all. The best roles were often given out to the most beautiful people, or those who knew someone influential, or were willing to do whatever it took, right or wrong, to get what they wanted. He was insulated from all of that at first, but the better he got, the more high profile roles he wanted, the uglier things became.

If he had chosen the law instead, he'd likely be a solicitor now, something safe like industrial law, or wills and estates, practising at a small firm in Manchester, minutes from his childhood home. His work would be boring, but lucrative, making far more money than he did now, and he'd be closer to his mother, his friends. He could leave the office behind each night and have a healthy balance between work and personal time. Life would be so much easier, far more predictable.

Who knew? Maybe he'd even be married by now.

Finishing his water, he went back to the kitchen and threw the empty bottle in the recycling box. Going over and settling on the sofa, he checked his email once again, confirming he'd received nothing in the hour since he last checked it. No news from his agent, no callbacks from past auditions, just the same list of cattle calls that he would be lining up for with hundreds of faceless others. Sighing tiredly, he considered taking a nap, but his mother's patented speech about work ethic and discipline rang in his ears. He rolled his eyes and got up, heading back to the bathroom mirror and another round of work on his accents.

 **Café Boulud Restaurant, Four Seasons Hotel, Yorkville, Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

"Yes, Aunt Rosamund," Mary said, rolling her eyes at Anna as she listened to her aunt – and agent – prattle on about how important the morning's photo shoot for _Entertainment Weekly_ magazine was for her and her career. She stayed silent for a while, as her aunt clearly had a lot to say.

"She'll have the kale and romaine salad, no raisins, no garlic and dressing on the side, please," Anna said to the waitress. "And the smoked salmon tartine for me, thanks."

"Very good," the waitress said, reaching for their wine glasses. "And sparkling water is all right for now?"

Anna glanced over at Mary. She wasn't paying attention, instead frowning and drumming her fingers on the linen tablecloth impatiently as her aunt continued on.

"Better bring her a Grey Goose and tonic, with lime," Anna said, smiling at the waitress conspiratorially.

"Will do," the waitress nodded. "Umm, do you think I could get a picture with Mary later on? I love her so much! I actually dressed up as Jade for a cosplay event at…"

Anna smiled at the waitress patiently. "If you could make sure that we aren't bothered while we eat, I'll be sure to ask her afterwards. She can be a bit testy when she's hungry, you see."

The waitress grinned happily and left to go put in the order and fetch Mary's drink.

"Mary," Rosamund's haughty voice rang in her ear. "You haven't gotten back to me on the scripts that I sent you last week. Your hiatus is coming up very shortly, you know. You really ought to have something lined up for the summer."

"None of them really interest me, to be honest," Mary replied indifferently. "They're all more of the same. The prostitute with the remarkably sage advice to give. The mistress who dies a horrible death. The estranged daughter who comes to terms with her father on his deathbed. These roles are bland, and shallow, to say nothing for the fact that none of them are overly significant. They aren't even supporting characters."

"We've been over this time and again," Rosamund replied. "In England your name has some cachet, but in America, you're just a television actress. No one is going to give you a lead role until you prove that you have range beyond playing a princess."

"She's a knight, Aunt Rosamund," Mary corrected her. "And what possible range do any of these roles demonstrate? From what I can tell, I'd be playing a piece of ass, nothing more."

"The point is to get you noticed," Rosamund continued. "It's all about getting your name attached to as many projects as possible so that you're in the discussion whenever a future role comes up. We need to get all the important people actively thinking about you, Mary. Your last nomination was two years ago, which is an eternity in this business, and you haven't won anything yet, besides."

"Yes, I'm well aware, thank you," Mary said, seething on the inside. "Just find me something I can sink my teeth into, please."

"Very well," Rosamund sighed in exasperation. "I'll get you something, but you must at least go to this next batch of auditions, and have an open mind. The last thing you want is for casting directors and producers to think you're difficult and consider yourself better than what they're offering you."

"That's just it. I am better than that," Mary replied, rolling her eyes again. "Goodbye."

She pursed her lips and put her phone down on the table, shaking her head before turning to Anna.

"What am I having?" Mary asked.

"The kale salad and a strong drink," Anna replied. "And you have to take a selfie with the waitress before we leave."

Mary smirked knowingly. "All right. Thank you for ordering. I'd be lost without you."

"What are personal assistants for?" Anna joked. "You told Lady Rosamund what you thought of those ridiculous roles, finally."

"I did. She thinks I'm being a snob," Mary answered. "I know that I'm lucky, I do. I'm the lead actress on a popular television show and I don't have to fight to get scripts and beg to get into auditions. I'm in the door already, as they say. But I'm still not given the respect and opportunities that I want. Everyone thinks that all I'm good for is taking my clothes off and making out with Henry onscreen, and those are the types of roles I'm getting. The pretty scenery in the background that never gets to say anything remotely interesting. Well, I've done that already, more than enough times, really. I won't do it anymore just to supposedly get noticed."

"I just don't understand the theory behind it, because obviously you've been nominated for awards and such, so you're already known," Anna offered. "You're not an unknown actress. When you go to those awards shows and parties, everyone has a kind word for you."

"You can't really trust that. Everyone's best friends in Hollywood, until it's time to actually get down to business, then no one remembers your name," Mary said drily. "Aunt Rosamund seems to be worried about my profile over here. I understand her point. She wants me to take whatever I can get and build my list of roles, but the problem with that is if I'm seen playing the same person over and over again, no one will believe I can do anything else. How am I supposed to convince the powers-that-be that I can carry a film if the only roles I get have barely ten minutes of screen time?"

"It's so ironic, considering Jade is a complete departure from the roles you had back home," Anna said.

"She is, which is what I love about her," Mary agreed. "But the show won't last beyond 2-3 more seasons at most. We've almost come to the end of the story in the books already. I've got to get my break now, otherwise it won't be so easy when the show's over. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that."

"Lady Rosamund will find something for you," Anna said. "All you need is one shot, and you'll run with it."

"God, I hope so," Mary said softly. "Now, what's going on the rest of the day?"

"You've got a spa appointment at 3, and we're going to the studio to do voiceovers at 5," Anna said, scrolling over her tablet screen. "The cast is going out for drinks at 10 tonight."

"Damn, that sounds like just the thing I need, something to help me forget about all of this other nonsense for one night," Mary complained.

"Yes, but you have early call tomorrow," Anna said.

"I know that, thank you," Mary said, arching her eyebrow at her. "And besides, I suppose you aren't coming along anyway?"

"You suppose right," Anna said, smiling and nodding her head. "I'll be with you through dinner, but I've got an ornery husband who will feel very neglected if I don't get home at a half-decent hour. I've barely seen him all week."

"I would object, but I can't bring myself to do it. He is rather patient with you, to be fair," Mary joked.

"I give him good reason to be," Anna said, smiling mischievously as she took a sip of water.

Mary smiled and nodded in understanding as the waitress brought her drink to the table.

"Grey Goose and tonic, with lime," the waitress said proudly, placing the drink on a coaster before Mary as though it was ambrosia itself.

Mary smiled and nodded. "Thank you. Now, we're taking a selfie together, aren't we? Go on and hand your phone to Anna and come sit down. It'll turn out better that way. She's great at taking photos."

 **Office of Alexander Lewis, Bay Street, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

Alex walked around his office tossing an autographed soccer ball in the air. He frowned slightly as he listened to the voice coming through on his wireless headset. After a short pause, he replied in perfect Mandarin Chinese, then went quiet again as he listened to the reply.

The glass door of his office opened and his secretary, Mrs. Chen, came through. She placed a thick stack of papers on his desk and reached out her hand to him, giving him her stern _'I've raised four children all older than you'_ glare. He rolled his eyes and handed her the soccer ball, which she promptly restored to its place in the glass display case against one wall of his office.

"Matthew Crawley is on line 2 for you," she said quietly, drawing his attention.

He nodded his head before picking up his conversation again. She gave him a stern glare, then left his office and closed the door behind her. After a minute or two, he ended the call with a polite goodbye and switched over to line 2.

"Some of us are actually busy during business hours, Matthew," he said, not bothering with a hello. "What can I do for you?"

"And a good afternoon to you," Matthew replied sarcastically. "I was just checking on where we're going for dinner?"

"Nota Bene," Alex replied. "6:30, reservation is in my name."

"Perfect. I'll let you get back to your most important job."

"Hang on for a second, actually, would you? I'll just be a moment," Alex said, an idea coming to his mind. He put Matthew on hold and went over to his desk, bringing up a number on his computer screen and dialing it.

"Alex!" a woman said pleasantly when she answered his call. "How are you? Please say you have good news for me."

"I not only have good news for you, I have great news for you," he said, smiling as he turned and looked out his office window at the sun shining over the lake in the distance. "My Chinese clients are in. You've got your full budget again."

"Fantastic!" the woman squealed over the phone. "Alex, you're a lifesaver. I have no idea how you did it, but I thought I was going to have to slash a ton out of this film because we couldn't afford the original scope. The studio heads have been on my ass to fix this, and because of you, I have. Thank you so much!"

"My pleasure," he said, nodding his head. "It would have gone far more smoothly for you if you'd have just come to me in the beginning instead of using another financier, you know."

She laughed. "I guess I deserve that. Well, I've learned my lesson. I'll have Lori send you over the list of our upcoming projects and you can have first crack at whatever you like."

"Excellent," Alex said, smiling smugly. "Now, about the current project, I was looking over the plans once again and I think it makes sense to shoot it here. In addition to the Chinese money, I've got a preliminary approval on your tax credits from both the provincial and federal governments. Factoring in the currency exchange, you'll save at least 30% compared to other possible locations."

"That works for me. I love Toronto in the summer," she said. "Send me the documents and I'll sign them right away."

"You'll have them later this afternoon, along with my account," he said cheekily.

"Of course," she said, laughing easily. "You've earned every penny, or nickel I guess, since they don't have pennies up there anymore."

"Much appreciated. I was also hoping I could put in a name for one of the roles in the movie. No commitments. I just want to get him an audition," Alex said.

"Your wish is my command," she replied. "I can't push for anything else, but I can put your name on the list, no problem."

"Thanks, and congratulations," Alex said. "I'll call you next week."

Hanging up the call, Alex switched back to Matthew.

"Still there?" Alex asked.

"I'm here," Matthew replied. "I was just reading a script while you had me on hold. You need to change the music, by the way."

"Duly noted," Alex replied. "I'll save the details for dinner, but I've got good news. I managed to get you an audition."

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

"Mary! The sushi's here!" Anna called, closing the front door and bringing the plastic bags into the dining room. She set out the rolls and sashimi on plates and poured the soy sauce into small bowls. Opening the bottle of sparkling water, she poured two glasses for them.

"Wonderful. I'm starving," Mary said, coming out of the bedroom and sitting down at the table. She picked up a pair of chopsticks and took a dollop of wasabi and placed it on her plate. Looking over the various rolls, she brought a selection over to her plate, licking her lips at the coming meal.

"You're all glammed up," Anna noted, smiling as she took in Mary's sleeveless crop top and skirt. "Have you changed your mind about going out with the cast?"

"I'll meet them for drinks downstairs, but that's likely to be it," Mary said, spreading wasabi on one end of a spicy salmon roll and dipping the other in soy sauce before popping it in her mouth and savouring the taste. "Mmm…so good!"

"Apparently Henry requested changes to the script for episode four," Anna mentioned, eating a cucumber roll as she gauged Mary's reaction.

"What a fucking ass," Mary said, shaking her head. "Let me guess – he wanted more lines, or a dramatic close up or something."

"He wanted the speech to the soldiers to be from him, rather than from you," Anna said.

"Of course he did," Mary replied, rolling her eyes. "And they catered to him again, no doubt?"

"You're sharing the speech now," Anna said. "It's annoying, but not a total loss."

"And of course he waits until we're about to start shooting to bring this up, rather than raise it at the read-through, when he knows I'd object," Mary said.

"It's almost as though he's trying to get a rise out of you," Anna joked.

"His bait doesn't interest me, not even a little," Mary said, looking at her knowingly. "It's a pity, you know? He actually is quite talented, but his ego's always getting in the way, and he's not the only actor to suffer from such an affliction, I'll admit."

"It's amazing how different he is in front of the media and all that," Anna agreed, taking a sip of water. "He's always so charming, and even comes across as humble. That's why he has so many followers."

"Groupies, more like it," Mary muttered. "He had a chin-up bar installed in his trailer, can you believe it? He probably asked the writers to put in all those scenes where he takes his shirt off on purpose."

"That's funny coming from you," Anna said, glancing at Mary's firm stomach bared by the crop top.

"That's different and you know it," Mary retorted. "I do it because it's demanded of me. Henry revels in showing himself off."

"It works for me, I don't have to talk to him," Anna joked.

Mary laughed and shook her head as she ate a piece of tuna sashimi.

"Do you ever wonder if it's all worth it?" Anna asked, smiling at Mary wistfully. "Not your career. I mean moving over here, leaving everyone back home, basically living out of a suitcase for months at a time?"

Mary sighed and smiled kindly at her assistant. She had known Anna since they were teenagers. She was her best friend, not just her employee, and had been with her through thick and thin. Mary had two younger sisters, but in many ways she had a closer bond with her assistant. She certainly spent more time with Anna than she did with either Edith or Sybil. Anna was the one who she never argued with, and could be completely honest with about anything. When Anna got married two years ago, Mary was her maid-of-honour.

"Never," Mary said firmly. "I've sacrificed a lot, lost a lot, and it hasn't come good as quickly as I would have liked, maybe, but when I came here to shoot the pilot, there was no guarantee the show would be picked up, and look at us now. I may complain about how I don't yet have the career that I want, but I think my decision has paid off handsomely, by any measure."

"Professionally, you mean," Anna stated.

Mary arched her eyebrow and looked at her pointedly. "Yes, professionally. That's all that counts. My family understands why I'm here. I miss them, but it is what it is. You know I'm not one to be sentimental."

Anna smiled and nodded. When Mary had come up with the idea to leave England to build her career, Anna had agreed to come with her without question. They'd been inseparable for years, and she never imagined for a second that she'd find another job, even though she'd never been to Canada, or the States before. The past four years had been quite an adventure. They spent five months in Toronto to shoot the show, another four months in America for promotional duties, and filming whatever project Mary picked up during her hiatus, and parts of the remaining three months back in England. It wasn't a normal schedule, particularly with so much travel, but Anna couldn't see herself doing anything else. They'd been through too much together to not see it through and find out if Mary's gamble to make it in America paid off.

"That's not all there is to life, Mary, work and family," Anna said gently. "There's love, too."

"I love my work," Mary answered automatically. "I love the direction that I'm going, what my future will be."

"There's room in your heart for more than just your career," Anna said encouragingly.

"Oh Anna," Mary smiled wryly, reaching for another piece of sushi. "I don't have a heart. Everyone knows that."

"Then everyone doesn't know the real you," Anna said, smirking as they kept eating.

 **Nota Bene Restaurant, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

"Easy, Matthew," Alex said, smiling as he watched his friend devour a $100 piece of Wagyu beef imported from Japan. "There's no need to rush."

"Sorry," Matthew said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "It's just really good, is all."

"And let me guess, you're bulking up again," Alex said wryly. "That's all you do is eat, sleep and go to the gym, it seems."

"More or less, especially now that I am officially unemployed once more," Matthew said, taking a sip of his water. "And I'm not bulking up, I'm getting lean actually. The protein is fuel for my workouts."

"Well, just don't overdo it. I don't know what body type they're looking for on this new film, so don't walk into the audition with no neck or something," Alex warned.

Matthew laughed. "Thanks again for that. I'll try not to embarrass you."

"Don't embarrass yourself. Don't worry about me," Alex replied.

"Which role do you think I should go for?" Matthew asked.

"There were rumours that Matt Damon was interested in the lead role a few years ago when the picture was in development," Alex said. "Who knows who will be in the running now? I would recommend you take the safer route and go for the supporting role. There's still a decent amount of screen time for it, and your lack of experience won't be counted against you as much."

"Right," Matthew said, nodding his head. "Sounds smart. Hard to compete for the lead when I don't have much of a career to show them."

"One step at a time," Alex said, smiling at Matthew's dour expression. "No one's an overnight success."

"Don't I know it," Matthew said drily, giving Alex a half-smile. "It's going on eight years now that I've been trying to become an overnight success."

 **The Calvin Bar, Trump International Hotel & Tower Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

"All right, let's get moving everyone! The cars are here," Catherine announced, waving her phone around. "Musik is holding our VIP booth for another 20 minutes, at most."

"Ready, Mary?"

"I'm going to pass, this time," Mary replied, getting up from the table. "I've got early call tomorrow so I'm just going to head upstairs and turn in."

"Oh come on!" Catherine whinged. "Don't be such a fucking bitch. Come out dancing for just a bit. You need to loosen up a bit, have some fun!"

"I can't imagine why I wouldn't with such a lovely invitation as that,' Mary joked. "Sorry. Saturday, for sure."

Catherine rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Fine. Suit yourself. It just means you won't be getting laid tonight, is all."

Mary laughed and traded cheek kisses with her castmates, leaving them to head out to the waiting cars as she turned for the elevators. Rather than call for the lift though, she waited for several minutes until she was sure they were gone. Coming back out into the lobby, she took out her smartphone and sent a quick text.

" _You up?"_

 **Home of Alexander Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

Alex typed away on his laptop, pausing to look over the draft contract before continuing with the next paragraph. The problem with being in finance, and specifically the financing of the entertainment business, was that he had clients all over the world. At any given hour during the day and night, he had emails and messages coming in. Investors in China. Studio executives in California. Directors and producers in New York and London. Though they were all in different countries and time zones, they shared two things in common – they expected instant service, and they had a remarkable knack for forgetting what time it was in Toronto.

As a result, his work hours changed often, depending on what project was currently his top priority. Previously, it wasn't uncommon for him to be answering emails and taking calls at 3 a.m., which was 3 p.m. in Hong Kong and 8 a.m. in London. He'd done a decent job in the past few years of tempering expectations and working more normal hours, and in not responding right away to every email and text, especially after midnight. He controlled the money, so for all the bluster and demands of his clients, he got to call the shots to a point. His reputation was now far more established and esteemed, so he had the clout to push back a bit and still keep his impressive client list.

He also had other things in his life to care about now more than money.

A smile crossed his lips as he heard the front door being unlocked and opened. Glancing at the clock on his computer screen, he nodded in mild surprise, impressed that she'd made it home before 11 p.m. for once, though only just.

"Hello," she called.

"Hello yourself," he replied as his wife came over and sat down on the sofa next to him, giving him a quick kiss and snuggling against his shoulder. "How was dinner?"

"We got sushi delivered. It was all right," Anna replied. "We ordered through Uber Eats. A proper restaurant would have been better, I imagine. You?"

"Nota Bene," he said. "It was about as good as it usually is. Matthew says hello."

"Mary says hello," she said tiredly. "She's got an early call tomorrow so I need to leave at six."

"Sheesh," he grumbled. "I'm shocked that she didn't make you stay over."

"She would have, but I told her that I had to go home and do my wifely duties," she teased, lifting her head and smirking at him.

"Now that sounds intriguing. And what do your wifely duties involve, exactly, Miss Smith?" he asked, his eyes bright and playful.

"That's Mrs. Lewis to you, sir," she shot back. "I was planning on running a bubble bath for us, giving you a massage and wearing that outfit you bought for me last week."

"That sounds good, love, and dare I hope to have all of your attention tonight? You won't be summoned away to rescue Mary from a club in the middle of the night?" he asked.

She laughed and shook her head. "Not this time. She promised me she would just have drinks in the bar then go straight up to bed. I'm all yours, until five."

"Well then, we had best get moving, Mrs. Lewis," he said, kissing her quickly, then scooping her up in his arms. She laughed and whispered all the dirty things she was going to do to him as he carried her upstairs to their bedroom.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downton Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

Matthew finished his glass of water and sighed, turning away from the windows and carrying it to the kitchen. He refilled his glass and set it aside, then took out a fresh glass from the cupboard and prepared a Grey Goose and tonic water with lime. Just as he finished stirring the drink, his front door opened and he closed his eyes as he heard expensive high heels being removed and cast aside.

" _Be strong. Be strong,"_ he repeated over and over in his mind, but his inner monologue faded with his resolve as light footsteps approached.

"Hi."

He opened his eyes, then slowly turned around and saw rosy cheeks, full lips curled in a teasing smirk and mischievous brown eyes.

She wasn't wasting any time tonight, apparently. She was already giving him her best come-hither look, and it was working.

"Hi," he replied, handing her the vodka and tonic.

"Thank you," Mary said, taking the drink and having a sip as she left the kitchen and went through the living room and out to the terrace. He frowned, fleetingly thinking of staying indoors before he slowly followed after her.

"How was your day?" she asked as he joined her outside, leaning on the railing and looking at the hotel across the street.

"Fine," he replied. "I met up with some of the lads this morning. A bit of a going away get-together."

"Oh, is the show done with, then?" she asked.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Everyone's moving on to other things, most people are leaving the country and going back home until their next gig comes along."

"Ah," she said with disinterest, taking another sip of her drink.

"What about you? Get up to anything fun?" he asked, searching for anything to keep them talking.

"We did a photo shoot this morning for _Entertainment Weekly_ ," she said, smiling smugly as she looked up at the evening sky. The wind was crisp and cold and she liked it, her blood racing through her veins delightfully. "They're giving us the cover and a feature article to promote the new season. _ET Canada_ was there covering it too. I think it's going to be on tomorrow night's show."

He nodded. "A cover feature. Well, that'll be good, it'll increase your profile."

"Hopefully," she said. "Up fronts are in New York in a few months' time, but they wanted to get an exclusive. It seems every week we have different media coming to visit the set."

"I see. Just you on the cover, is it?" he asked.

"And Henry," she answered, her voice level and casual.

"Ah," he said curtly.

She finished her drink and handed the empty glass to him.

"Another?" he asked, taking the glass from her.

"No," she said, giving him a smirk and a knowing glance before she went back inside.

He watched her go, watched her step back into the apartment, round the sofa and disappear into the bedroom. Closing his eyes, he waited for his inner voice to stop him, but nothing came. He hated how she could do this to him still, after all these years and all that they'd been through, all of his vows to not let her get to him again. Yet despite the small pang of indignation, his body was already responding to her, as it always did.

Opening his eyes, his shoulders sagged slightly as he followed after her, closing the door to the terrace and placing the empty glasses on the coffee table. Staring at the shadows beyond the bedroom door, he walked over and crossed the threshold.

She pounced the moment he came in, grabbing him by his shirt and pressing him against the wall. Her mouth seized his, her lips easily opening him up so she could push her tongue past his teeth. She released him just long enough to yank his shirt up and over his head, before she was on him again, moving to his neck, nibbling on his skin lightly before she alternated kisses and licks down his front, her hands tracing their way across his chest and stomach as she sank to her knees.

His belt and trousers were quickly opened, his hands closed into fists at his sides when she pushed his boxer briefs to the floor. A pleased hum flew from her throat as she took hold of him, an answering groan from deep in his chest as she stroked him to full arousal.

"You're so fucking big," she whispered just before she closed her mouth around him and took him deep.

His head fell back and hit the wall as he felt the warmth of her mouth all over him. Gritting his teeth, he stared down at her, her eyes looking up at him, a scandalous symphony of moans and swallows flying from her throat. The dim lamp on the nightstand cast a glow around the room, shadows playing over them as she licked and sucked and stroked, her mouth and hands driving him mad. She was on her knees servicing him, and yet he knew better. She set the pace, controlled his pleasure, made it clear with her eyes and mouth and voice that she was bestowing a favour upon him. She was here with him not to give, but to take, and even though he knew all of this, still he couldn't resist. Almost without thinking, he thrust forward, matching her rhythm, giving as much as she could take.

After several glorious minutes, she released him, raising up and kissing his chest and neck once more. He moved his hands finally, sweeping up her legs, across her hips and back down to lift her skirt and cup her bottom, pulling her to him. She smiled and laughed in approval, grinding against him for a moment as she licked his earlobe.

"Fuck me, Matthew," she hissed, her voice filling him like a drug. "Take my clothes off and fuck me like you mean it."

She knew just how to get him worked up, the precise sequence of action and words that would break his control and unleash his passion. She always knew how to get what she wanted from him. He wasn't naïve enough to think that her sultry voice and wanton behaviour was reserved just for him anymore, but it didn't matter. He would take this piece of her and like it, and they both knew it.

He stepped out of the tangle of clothes on the floor and pushed her backwards, pulling her top over her head in the short time it took to reach the bed. She undid her bra and cast it aside, moaning in satisfaction as he dropped his head and kissed all over her breasts, his hands reaching around and unzipping her skirt, shoving it past her hips and down to the floor.

She pulled him back up and kissed him hard, her tongue stabbing at his briefly before he spun her around and pushed her on to the bed. She crawled forward on her hands and knees, taking hold of the headboard and looking back at him over her shoulder with a wicked smile. She arched her back and wiggled her ass back and forth, rewarded by his leering snarl as he scrambled over, taking hold of her hips and settling in behind her.

"Yes!" she shouted, throwing her head back as he pulled her panties aside and pushed into her. She was wet and ready and he wasn't gentle, giving her a quick thrust, then pulling back before plunging in deeper. She pushed back against him, meeting each stroke with one of her own, her hands tight around the rails of the headboard, her hair loose about her back and shoulders as they rocked back and forth.

He leaned over her and kissed his way up her spine, increasing his pace and giving her all of him with each plunge. She turned her head and found his mouth, kissing him sloppily as he brought her to the edge. A harsh moan signalled her first release and he kept at her, his hands moving up and cupping her breasts, his hips slowing momentarily until he was sure she was ready to take him fully again.

She let go of the headboard and lowered her head to the pillows, tilting her hips to give him an even more devastating angle. His hands moved back to her waist, leaning forward for leverage and changing from rapid thrusts to deep and deliberate lunges. Every push was accompanied by a heated moan from her open mouth. The louder she screamed, the harder he pumped, until she fell apart a second time and he held still, waiting for her to calm just a bit before chasing his own climax. He knew what this meant to him. He knew what it didn't mean to her, and as he watched her bent over before him, her usually perfect hair splayed about, a ragged moan coming from her open lips, her eyes shut tight, not even looking at him, focused only on herself, anger and lust fused into one and drove his passion higher. He would show her that she had to pay him at least some attention as she drowned happily in her own pleasure.

He spanked her hard, once, twice.

Her eyes opened. Her teeth flashed as she smiled back at him, then laughed harshly and taunted him to give it to her harder.

He complied.

In the back of his mind, where the last rational part of him hung by a thread, he realized what he was doing, and that he couldn't lose himself in this, whatever this was. Her voice was somewhere far away, barely audible above the roaring rush of the blood in his veins. He heard her pleas, her demands, her instructions, fueling his hunger and spurring him on. Perhaps she wanted it this way. Perhaps a part of him did as well. Their past relationship had burned away, leaving only the raw heat of this – the one thing they had together that had never gone wrong.

Just before the animal inside of him took over completely, the smallest scrap of restraint flared anew. This wasn't some dirty fuck to help him forget the day and go to sleep easier. This mattered to him, still, after all this time, and he wouldn't ruin it in a fit of primal greed and selfishness, no matter how much she might want him to.

"Mary!" he grunted, pulling out of her and sitting back on his haunches.

She turned around quickly on to her back, her hands reaching up and taking hold of her breasts, presenting them to him. He stroked himself quickly. They bared their teeth to each other, breathing raggedly. Brown eyes met blue. He growled. She begged.

He spurted violently and she caught it all.

* * *

He blinked several times, opening his eyes finally and adjusting to the darkness. A sliver of light and the running of a hair dryer told him that she was in the ensuite bathroom. He slowly sat up and got out of bed, fumbling around for his underwear, pulling it back on and wandering out into the living room.

Stretching his arms and neck, he went to the kitchen and got a bottle of water from the fridge, opening it and taking a long sip as he came back into the living room and leaned against the couch. With his pulse and his breathing back to normal, he glanced out to the blinking lights of downtown, the vibrant images and sounds of what he and Mary had just done tempered by what he knew was soon coming.

They weren't tired after the first round of sex. They never were. Watching her clean every trace of him off of her had only aroused them all over again, and they were soon back at it, but more slowly this time, leisurely, playing with each other rather than rutting desperately. They laughed and tickled each other, stayed embraced in a tangle of arms and legs as they kissed and fondled and acted as though they had all the time in the world, as though the night would never end so long as they never left each other's hold. It was perhaps even more cruel than the first round.

When he was ready again she got on top of him, working her hips and riding him, firm but unhurried. He steadied her, then reached up and played with her breasts, finally offering her his fingers which she gladly kissed and licked in time with his thrusts. Their eyes met, the fierce heat from before long gone, replaced by a warmth, a knowing connection that was unwavering despite everything. She whispered his name. He exhaled hers. They both closed their eyes as they went over together, and everything they'd ever done to hurt each other was washed away for another brief moment of bliss.

As he sipped his water and waited for her, he was already pushing tonight's memories into the recesses of his mind, to be kept hidden lest he dwell upon them and crumble.

Minutes later, she emerged, immaculate and perfect, hair restored, face wiped clean, clothes back in place. She looked nothing like a woman who had just spent over an hour in his bed, and every bit the one who was quickly on her way out.

"Go back to sleep," she said kindly, though her voice didn't sound kind to him at all. "My cab's downstairs."

She pecked him on the lips as she passed him, patting his cheek as though he was a puppy she'd rescued from a puddle and was now leaving behind. He watched her go to the foyer without a second glance, slip back into her heels and reach for the door.

"You could always stay," he called out, a small part of him hopeful, a larger part entirely disgusted with himself.

She glanced back and smiled, her eyes looking at him with pity, like a parent about to explain something basic to a child.

"I've got an early call tomorrow," she said simply, the easy excuse not quite enough to erase what was left unsaid. She wouldn't have stayed even if she had the day off tomorrow.

"I see," he said, looking down at the floor.

"Matthew," she called slowly, trying to make her voice sound nicer.

He looked up at her.

"You are all right with our arrangement, aren't you?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him. "I should hope you don't have any expectations beyond this. That would be foolish."

"No, I don't," he replied after a lengthy pause, nodding his head slowly. "Everything's fine."

"Good. Bye," she said shortly. The lock was turned, the door opened and she was gone down the hall to the elevator in a flash. The sound of her fading footsteps and the click of the door closing were like punches to his gut.

He stood there for minutes, watching the door, wondering if the lock would turn, the door fly open and Mary come running back in. Eventually, he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck, stealing one more glance at the unmoving door before he finally gave up and shuffled back to bed.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

The valet opened the rear door of the cab and nodded as Mary stepped out and walked past him and the doorman and into the private lobby. She passed the late night concierge and was soon in the express elevator up to her rented condo.

This suite had been home for the past three years, ever since the first season of _Paladin_ received a full order. She'd managed to bring over some photos and keepsakes from England to make the place seem more hers. At first this was just a place to sleep, somewhere to stay whenever she wasn't at the studio or working on location somewhere in the city. Now, it felt like her private, personal space, a refuge where she could escape from life for a few hours at a time.

Within minutes she was tucked into bed under the soft duvet, changed into boxer shorts and an oversize t-shirt. She checked to make sure the alarm was set on her phone. Anna would call at 6 a.m., the hotel wake-up call was set for 6:20 and her phone alarm for 6:30. She stretched out on to her side and snuggled against the pillows, closing her eyes, a wave of fatigue washing over her as she felt delightfully relaxed. The morning would bring fresh challenges. She was still stressed about finding a movie role for the hiatus in a few months' time, and all the baggage that came with being Mary Crawley would need to be carried again. For now though, she was pleasantly sated, and a satisfied smirk crossed her lips before she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Many thanks to _AmeriGirlTN_ for the original prompt, which, after much thought and brainstorming, bears very little resemblance to what the story is, and will become. Thank you in advance to all my loyal readers, old and new, for coming along on another modern AU journey with Mary and Matthew.


	2. Chapter 2

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

The valet opened the rear door of the cab and nodded as Mary stepped out and walked past him and the doorman and into the private lobby. She passed the late night concierge and was soon in the express elevator up to her rented condo.

This suite had been home for the past three years, ever since the first season received a full order. She'd managed to bring over some photos and keepsakes from England to make the place seem more hers. At first this was just a place to sleep, somewhere to stay whenever she wasn't at the studio or working on location somewhere in the city. Now, it felt like her private, personal space, a refuge where she could escape from life for a few hours at a time.

Within minutes she was tucked into bed under the soft duvet, changed into boxer shorts and an oversize t-shirt. She checked to make sure the alarm was set on her phone. Anna would call at 6 a.m., the hotel wake-up call was set for 6:20 and her phone alarm for 6:30. She stretched out on to her side and snuggled against the pillows, closing her eyes, a wave of fatigue washing over her as she felt delightfully relaxed. The morning would bring fresh challenges. She was still stressed about finding a movie role for the hiatus in a few months' time, and all the baggage that came with being Mary Crawley would need to be carried again. For now though, she was pleasantly sated, and a satisfied smirk crossed her lips before she drifted off to sleep.

 **Chapter 2:**

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

"It was all nothing but a clever lie," Henry sneered, glaring at Mary. "The smiles, the gentle touches, the whispered endearments, luring me to your bed, everything done so carefully and deliberately to make me believe that you could have cared for me, to lull me into a foolish stupor, blinded by love and ignorant to your true intentions. Well, now I know. You know nothing of the Paladin's Code! Nothing at all of valour, and selflessness! You are incapable of love, of caring about anyone but yourself."

He drew his sword from its scabbard with a flourish, flicking his wrist and pointing it at Mary's neck.

"What's this? No witty rejoiner? No clever retort? You disappoint me, Mary…oh, fucking hell!"

Mary rolled her eyes and turned away, hands on her hips, shaking her head.

"Cut!" the director shouted. "Okay, Henry, that was going very well, just clean that last bit up…"

"I'm sorry. Sorry, everyone," Henry said, shrugging his shoulders flippantly as he put the prop sword back in its sheath. "Just a slip-up, is all."

"That's your fifth slip-up this morning alone," Mary muttered under her breath, turning back around and returning to stand on her mark.

Anna watched from the periphery of the soundstage, willing Mary to remain calm, though she could easily understand her pique. Henry had been off all morning, either forgetting his lines, improvising when he shouldn't have, and calling Mary by her real name, rather than that of her character. The first mistake was understandable, even funny. The second was peculiar, but gotten over quickly. Since then though, Mary had become increasingly annoyed with each new error. This scene was supposed to be finished with over an hour ago. The biggest part of the day was an action sequence that was going to be very complicated, and even a bit dangerous. Extending the day, with everyone a bit nervous already, was hardly helpful.

"We got most of what we needed from that," the director said diplomatically. "Let's just pick it up from 'Well, now I know'. Ready on set? Mark! Roll camera, and, action!"

"Well, now I know. You know nothing of the Paladin's Code! Nothing at all of valour, and…selflessness! You are incapable of love, of caring about anyone but yourself," Henry growled, drawing his sword and pointing it at Mary's neck once more.

She recoiled away from the blade, her chin raised, lips twitching. She glared at him with a fury that was not entirely invented.

"What's this? No witty rejoiner? No clever retort? You disappoint me, Jade. I was hoping you would at least beg for my mercy," he finished.

Mary swallowed, pausing just long enough to gather herself and allow the tension of the scene to fester palpably. "I've learned the value of self-preservation," she said tightly. "You taught me that, Frederick, when you ignored the Code and left me to die so you could save yourself. If I seem cold to you now, it's because my very soul was frozen by your unforgiveable abandonment. You talk of mercy? It will be a blessing to never have to see your face ever again, even if it means my death!"

"And cut! Print it! That's great, Henry, Mary, really well done! Just…just…great!" the director called, clapping his hands with a bit too much enthusiasm. "Let's break while we set up the rigging for the fight scene. Everyone take, what? How about half an hour? Yeah, half an hour!"

Mary spun away from Henry and marched off the set, shaking her head as Anna fell in step with her, bound for her trailer.

 **Food Court, Bay Adelaide Centre, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

Matthew sipped his hot chocolate, leaning back in the high-backed chair, just another random face in the crowd grabbing a mid-morning break. Of course, unlike most of the other people here, his break lasted the entire day, since he didn't have a job at the moment. Nevertheless, he liked to stick to a daily routine. He woke up early, headed to the gym and caught up on the latest news while riding the exercise bike and lifting weights. Once that was done, it was a quick stroll through the underground network of tunnels that connected all of the downtown office buildings until he reached this bustling food court for his breakfast. He liked to come here and just sit and relax, observing the people around him. It helped him appreciate the many ways that different people moved, their particular mannerisms and expressions. Stern businessmen typing away on their laptops, tourists staring at their phones as they wandered past on their way to the large shopping mall next door, junior associates chatting animatedly about their weekend exploits, complaining about their bosses or bragging about some tale of romantic conquest as they waited in line for Thai food, burritos or burgers at one of the food outlets. He learned so much here about body language and non-verbal communication, nuances that he in turn brought to his acting. It was one thing to deliver a line when prompted, but to pair it with just the right tilt of the head or sweep of the hand to give it the emphasis it needed was an art unto itself, and he found there was no better classroom than just watching people in real life.

He smiled and shook his head ruefully as he noticed a group of young girls clearly on their Spring Break, gabbing away at a hundred words a minute while playing on their phones and using slang and trendy acronyms that he had no clue about. It was a personal preference of his not to try for younger roles. He could still gamely pass for a university student, maybe a post-grad to be fair, but he imagined that trying to learn the language and behaviour of young people these days would be harrowing.

His phone buzzed on the table and he glanced down at it, blinking in surprise as he saw the familiar face pop up on the call display. Clearing his throat, he picked up the phone and paused, a smile coming to his face when he answered the call.

"Hello, Miss Crawley," he said pleasantly.

"Hello, Matthew," she answered. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Never," he replied. "All right, Sybil? How's New York?"

"We got snow today, can you believe it?" Sybil Crawley, Mary's youngest sister, complained. "It was just a light dusting, but annoying nonetheless. I decided to stay in and work from home."

"Of course you did," he said, smiling and shaking his head. "And Tom called in sick, did he?"

"No, I made him go in," she replied, laughing playfully. "Someone needs to make the money so we can afford to live in this ridiculously overpriced city, you know."

"Indeed," he said. "Said the woman who practically grew up in London."

"Yorkshire, mostly," she corrected him. "London was for school, and it's not like I paid for any of it, did I?"

"Right," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Anyway, I wanted to give you a shout because I'm coming up in a couple of weeks," she explained. "There's a continuing education seminar that I want to take, and the hospital's paying for it. I'll be in Toronto for about a week."

"That's great!" he said with genuine surprise. "My schedule is pretty clear so far in April so I'll be around."

"Lovely," she said smugly. "I figure it'll be more efficient to just get everyone together and have a nice dinner somewhere."

His face dropped. "Right, erm, well, probably best if you and I just grab lunch on our own, or we can have dinner whenever your classes are done for the day. There's a Momofuku across the street from my building."

"Matthew," she began, her tone growing serious, as though she was about to scold him, which she was.

"Sybil, don't, please," he interrupted. "You know it's not a good idea."

"I know that I want to see my sister and I want to see you, and I don't see why the two of you can't have one dinner together. It's not as though you'll be alone, for God's sake," she grumbled. "There'll be a group of us. It's entirely harmless."

"We don't socialize, either in a group setting, or otherwise. That's not the way we are with each other now, and you know it," he said drily.

"Yes, I'm well aware of just how you are with each other now," she retorted.

He shut his eyes for a moment and cringed. "I'll tell you what, Sybil. You ask her whether she thinks it's a good idea or not and I'll go along with whatever she decides. She would expect me to follow her decision, anyway, since you're her sister."

"I'm also your friend. That's rather clever of you," she said wryly. "You know she won't go for it either, so that lets you off the hook."

"Exactly, and that's why it's not a good idea," he said curtly. "Look, I've got to run. Send me your itinerary when you have it, yes? The convention centre is just a few blocks from my place."

"Will do," she said resignedly. "Have a good day, darling. Luv you."

"Luv you too, Sybil. I really am glad that you're coming up. Bye," he said, hanging up the call.

He looked at his phone for a moment, Sybil's smiling face still on the screen, showing the call had ended. Shaking his head, he put his phone back down and took another sip of his now more-warm-than-hot hot chocolate. He and Mary together for a group dinner like a couple of old friends. As if that would ever happen. Sybil could be so maddeningly naïve sometimes, he thought.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, March 2016**

"Mary! Mary! Open up, darling!" Henry called, knocking sharply on the door to her trailer.

After a longer wait than Henry was accustomed to, the door finally opened, revealing Anna looking at him with significant disinterest. "Yes?" she asked.

"As shocking as it sounds, I'm here to see Mary," Henry said pointedly. "Be a good little assistant and let me past, won't you, Anna, dear?"

"It's all right, Anna," Mary called from inside her trailer. "Let him in and go on and check to see how much time we have before they need us back, please."

Anna turned her head and nodded to Mary, then walked past Henry briskly without any further comment. He stepped aside and bowed his head mockingly as she left.

"Well, that's better. She really is quite lovely, but she can be a bit of a nag, always flittering around like a mother hen," he declared cheerfully, stepping up into her trailer and closing the door behind him.

"Anna is indispensable to me," Mary said drily from her perch at the small desk at the back of the trailer, holding her tablet in her hands. "She also has excellent instincts for when someone is about to waste my time."

"Now, now, darling, don't get your claws out just yet," he said easily, coming over and helping himself to the bed, lying down and kicking his feet up. "I just wanted to have a quick word."

"If you wanted to apologize for wasting most of the morning, don't bother," she stated, turning away from the sight of him lounging on her bed. "Just pull yourself together for the afternoon. I'd rather not have to do this fight scene over and over again because you forget to parry when you're supposed to be dodging."

"Actually, I didn't come here to apologize," he said. "I just wanted to check on you, make sure you're all right."

She turned her head and frowned at him in confusion. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't I be all right?"

"You seem rather put out, as of late. More so than usual, I mean," he explained.

"I am put out," she said, nodding her head. "Need I repeat what I said no more than five seconds ago about you wasting most of the morning?"

"Oh, come on, Mary," he scoffed. "We all make mistakes with our lines. Even had I gotten it perfect on the first take, we would have shot it again, and you know that. You stormed off the set like a petulant princess with your panties all in a knot, without any legitimate reason. It's not the first time you've overdramatized a situation. I'm concerned for you."

Her mouth fell open, she was so shocked by his words, spoken so casually, and yet so uncalled for. "That's exactly why I am so put out, Henry," she said finally. "It isn't that you botched the scene this morning, over and over and over; it's that you don't even care that you did! If you want to freelance your way through your scenes and flub your lines at every turn, go on then, but when it affects me and my time, then of course I'm going to be annoyed by it. Did you expect me to thank you for being so inefficient and unprofessional?"

"Inefficient and unprofessional," Henry repeated, shaking his head, a smug smile showing his teeth. "Do you hear yourself right now? We got through the scene, just like we'll get through the afternoon and the rest of the day eventually. This season will be a success, just like the past three, and you'll get all your little fangirls squealing, your glowing reviews and the media kissing your arse as per usual. Life is good, Mary. Just enjoy it for once, rather than looking for the next disaster at every turn."

She rolled her eyes and exhaled sharply. "All right, if that's what you wanted to say, then you've said it, and you can leave. I'll see you out there, Henry." she said turning back to her desk.

"Do you know what I think? I think you could use some loosening up," Henry declared, getting up from bed. He stepped over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Yes, I think some special therapy would be just the thing to relieve all this tension you're carrying."

"Henry, stop," she said crisply, turning her head to glance back and show him she was serious.

"I mean it, Mary," he said, removing his hands and leaning back on the wall behind them. "When's the last time you had a decent shag?" he asked.

' _Just last night, actually, and 'decent' doesn't even begin to describe it,'_ she thought, wanting so badly to throw that at him, but holding it in.

"None of your business, excuse you," she said, turning back to her tablet.

"That means it's been months, at least," he offered, smirking as he looked down at her. Her costume had a wide scooped neck that swept down her front and back, revealing plenty of her alabaster skin beneath the intricate up-do that her hair had been styled into.

"I'm not having this conversation with you," she said plainly.

"I'm just offering my help, is all," he said cheekily.

"Your help is neither wanted, nor welcome," she shot back. "Nothing's changed since the other hundred-some-odd times you've offered to 'help' me."

He laughed and crossed his arms over his chest, the picture of arrogance.

Eventually she turned in her chair and glared at him. "What?" she asked.

"Why fight it, Mary? It's inevitable, you know," he said, baring his teeth as he grinned at her.

"Oh, this will be good," she said sarcastically. "Do tell."

"We've known each other for how long now, Mary? Six years, is it? I know you better than most. I've seen you here in your element, away from the paparazzi and without your carefully crafted image. You want, no, you crave power. The chip on your shoulder is so huge that one would think you're impersonating Atlas himself, or Sisyphus even. You're so driven by this need to prove yourself over here. You're obsessed with it," he said firmly.

"And what does any of that have to do with you, even if it were true, which it's not," she countered.

He smiled.

"Mary, you're a brilliant actress. I've always said it. But you'll never be bigger than me," he said simply. "In a few months, I'm heading to Australia to film _Thor:Ragnarok_ and you don't even have anything lined up for the summer yet. We co-star on the same show, and yet I make more than you and have won more awards than you. I've got a million more followers than you do, and that's just on Instagram alone. I'm the lead, the alpha, whatever you want to call it. You want a powerful man, but you can't even see what's standing right in front of you because you're so bloody competitive. Rather than be jealous of me, you ought to take advantage of the situation. If we were together, truly together, your profile would blow up overnight. A few well-timed paparazzi shots – walking through the park hand-in-hand, a little kiss on the red carpet during up-fronts, a casual shot of us swimming on a weekend trip to Miami or wherever – and the buzz around you would be absolutely deafening. You would reach heights you never imagined."

"So you think I should allow you to masquerade as my boyfriend to help my career?" she asked him, already aware of what his answer would be. "You think that's what is missing from my life?"

"I think you shouldn't be so against the idea of us, for numerous reasons," he said, smirking at her. "Yes, it can help your career immensely, but I'm quite confident you'll enjoy the other aspects of it as well. As I said, you want power, and I've got it."

"Yes, your bedroom prowess that you constantly feel the need to brag about. In case you didn't notice, I don't swoon every time you parade around with your shirt off," she said mockingly. "A firm stomach alone isn't going to impress me."

' _Especially since yours isn't the most fit body I've seen'_ she thought wickedly.

"You've seen far more of me than just my stomach," he teased.

"And I'm just as unimpressed by the rest of you," she said right away.

"All right, maintain this air of indifference if it suits you," he said lightly. He leaned forward, bringing his eyes level with hers. "But I think that deep down, you know how right I am. And you're curious about whether all my boasting is just talk, or if I'm actually as good as I say I am. You crave power, Mary. We both know it. You can't resist it. You want a man who will take charge of you, and not just someone domineering. No, you want someone who has the entire package – power, wealth, influence, success, and who will use all of that to lift you up. You continue to deny it, but I fill all those categories, and then some. Just say the word, and I'll open your eyes."

"That's quite enough. Get going, Henry. I'll see you on set," she said wearily, shaking her head.

"I'm going," he said, turning for the door. "But I know I'm right about you Mary. It's why you left England all those years ago to come over here. It's why you left your family behind and refused to trade on your last name to get ahead in the business. It's why you ended it with that boyfriend of yours, whatever his name was. The one who had no real future. How could you possibly stay with him when your career was destined for greatness and he had no ambition at all? Power. You want it. I've got it. It's only a matter of time until you see it, too."

Mary didn't even dignify his chauvinistic dreck with a response, relieved when the door closed behind him.

Henry walked casually to the soundstage, the same smug smirk on his face the entire way back.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

"Hi, I was just calling to talk to Joe, but he doesn't seem to be in his office, I got his voicemail," Matthew said, looking out the window, his phone to his ear. "I was wondering if he's heard anything on the audition I went to earlier this week? Oh, sorry, right, it's Matthew, Matthew Crawley. Yes, right, right…oh…I see. And are there are any notes on my other audition from a couple of weeks back? That one too, hmm? Right, then. Well, that's what I wanted to talk to him about. Erm, yes, just let him know I called and he can call me back whenever. Great. Thanks. Bye."

Matthew hung up the call and sighed. He closed his eyes and tapped his forehead against the window several times before calming himself and going to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Coming over to the sofa, he sat down and looked at the calendar on his laptop. He did some quick mental calculations as he noted when his bills were due in the coming weeks for his phone, internet, cable, utilities and gym membership, not to mention groceries and such.

"Getting tight," he muttered.

Frowning at the screen for several moments, he decided he needed some fresh air. It had been unseasonably cold this past week. They'd even gotten a decent smattering of snow, and not the kind that melted right away either. The weather forecast for Sybil's coming visit was downright balmy, which he was glad for. Sybil loved to complain about the weather and the last thing he needed was for it to be near freezing when she landed.

Grabbing his lighter winter coat, he quickly took the elevator downstairs and wandered outside, making a circuit up past the courthouses, over to the art gallery and back down again. Though his career prospects and financial situation hadn't changed in the 20 minutes he'd been out walking, he felt refreshed after breathing in the crisp air for a while.

He ducked into the convenience store on the ground floor of his building to grab a case of Cherry Coke before heading back up to his apartment. Trading smiles with the store owner behind the counter, he went to the back of the store and grabbed a 12-pack from the shelf. He carried it to the front and fumbled for six two-dollar coins to pay for his preferred drink. Twelve dollars was rather exorbitant compared to the price of a case of regular Coke, but he didn't mind. Cherry Coke was a bit of a novelty here in Canada, and he was rather pleased with himself that he could get it.

"Thank you, thank you, see you tomorrow," the store owner said pleasantly, handing Matthew his change.

On his way to the front door, he passed the magazine stand next to the lottery counter. He normally walked right past, but this time he paused, his eyes seeming to be drawn to a particular section, where the latest issue of _Entertainment Weekly_ was prominently displayed, freshly arrived this morning. On the cover, Mary was straddling Henry, wearing nothing but a short skirt bunched around her hips. Her breasts were partially obscured by her arms reaching around his back. His one hand was lifting her skirt, grabbing her arse. They were almost kissing, her eyes locked on his, her lips parted invitingly. The hint of his tongue was visible, appearing almost ready to strike.

 _'Gorgeous Couple Alert! New Season of_ _ **Paladin**_ _set to be hottest yet! Exclusive photos of our steamy photoshoot with Mary Crawley and Henry Talbot'_ screamed the headline.

Matthew frowned and stomped out of the store. He couldn't get back up to his apartment fast enough.

 **Hermès Toronto Store, Yorkville, Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

Anna stood well back as Mary was in deep discussions with her regular store clerk at the other end of the room. A selection of handbags was laid out on the glass counter, the woman presenting each one to Mary with great flourish and attention to detail. Alligator skin was mentioned, as were French terms such as 'matte', 'lisse', and 'veau' leather. Anna knew all of the terminology from memory. As Mary's assistant, it was an absolutely necessary skill to keep up on the latest in fashion. Today's shopping trip was more about catharsis and relieving tension than anything else, so she stayed out of Mary's way and just hoped she wouldn't spend too much money.

Anna's phone vibrated and she glanced at it, smiling before touching her headset and stepping back to get a bit more privacy.

"Anna Smith speaking," she answered formally, knowing it would bug him far more than he was willing to admit.

"Ha ha," Alex replied ruefully. "Where are you, love?"

"Yorkville. Hermès, to be exact," she answered. "Mary wanted to go shopping."

"How productive," he said wryly. "Any chance you can get let out early? I've wrapped up my calls for the day. I can pick you up in about an hour."

"That's probably too soon. I might be able to meet you in two," she said. "Why?"

"Because I want to spend time with my wife, that's why," he said confidently. "Surely Mary can be trusted to go shopping on her own without having her keeper following her around?"

"I wouldn't say that, actually," she answered, glancing across the room at Mary, partly afraid that she wouldn't be able to decide on one bag and would end up taking the lot. "Anyway, what exactly are you offering to make me consider playing the truant?"

"An antipasti platter from Pusateri's and a bottle of very old and very good wine, enjoyed from the comforts of our hot tub," he said.

"Babes, it's a bit chilly for that, hey?" she said, smiling at the mental image in her mind. "The food and wine do sound wonderful, though."

"I'll keep you warm. I promise that you won't even feel the cold," he teased.

"The neighbours will think we're mad to be cavorting outside in this weather," she noted.

"Love, the reason we have a privacy fence and why I pay so much for the trees to be maintained is so that the neighbours will have no clue what we are getting up to. That is, unless you think you might be a bit too loud?" he asked.

"Stop it, I'm at work," she said pointedly, though her smile grew.

"So am I. I'm in my office thinking rather delightful thoughts, particularly since you mentioned that we would be 'cavorting' outside. Shall I share them with you?" he asked lightly.

"No, save them for later," she said, biting her bottom lip and glancing around the boutique to make sure that no one was noticing her rather inappropriate conversation. "All right, I'll try and get out of the rest of the afternoon. I'll…hang on, I've got another call."

She took out her phone again and glanced at it, frowning before going back to her husband.

"I've got to go. It's Lady Grantham. I'll have to text you when I get a chance to talk to Mary. Bye, babes. Love you," she said quickly before switching over without waiting for him to reply.

"Lady Grantham, hello," she said formally.

"Anna," Cora Crawley greeted her warmly. "I'm looking for my daughter and her phone keeps going straight to voicemail. Are you with her?"

"I am, Lady Grantham, yes. She didn't want to be disturbed so she put her phone on silent. I'll go and get her for you," she replied, walking over to Mary and touching her arm.

Mary turned and looked at Anna quizzically, then nodded and rolled her eyes in understanding as Anna showed her the phone screen.

"I'll be just a minute, Carrie. I'll take the red and the blue for now," Mary said to the store clerk, taking Anna's phone and turning away.

"Hello, Mummy," she said.

"Mary, darling, I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time?" Cora said.

"No, no, Anna and I are just out, is all," Mary said carefully. "Everything all right?"

"Yes, yes. I just wanted to call because I spoke to Rosamund a little while ago," Cora said.

"Of course you did," Mary said, shaking her head. "Mum, I don't want to get into this. I told her that she needs to find me better opportunities. That's it."

"Certainly, but you have to expect that these things take time and you need to make gradual progress at first," Cora said. "That's how your Granny got noticed overseas, and it was the same for me. You've got a good thing going with the show, but that doesn't mean people will be beating down your door to offer you the most plum roles. You need to show them that you can be just as outstanding in a film role, and I should hate to see you give people the wrong impression by being a bit too discerning with your choices."

"And how am I to impress anyone by playing a stripper for five minutes of screen time?" Mary retorted. "I'm quite certain that neither you, nor Granny ever had to do that, not that I want to hear about it."

Cora laughed.

"Just keep an open mind, Mary, won't you?" she said eventually. "You don't have the same schedule flexibility as other actresses so you can't be difficult. Better to commit to a project so that you know what your next credit will be, even if it isn't Oscar-worthy. When you decided to head over there, I warned you that your window of opportunity would be small, given your age and the greater competition you face. You don't have time to stand on principle."

"I promised Aunt Rosamund I would be open minded. The rest is up to her," she grumbled.

Cora paused before continuing. "Mary, you do realize that your show won't be around for much longer. Your father keeps pushing me to bring you back once it's finished, and I keep putting him off."

"Mum, please, spare me your proclamations of doom and destitution, at least until the show is finished. I'm not coming back. Not permanently. I'll visit, and I might even do a show or something during the summer one of these years, but my life is here now," Mary said.

"Just keep an open mind, about several things," Cora replied. So much can change in this business, my darling. Your Granny taught me that."

"Speaking of Granny, how is she? I called a few days ago and Smithers said she was resting. I haven't heard from her since."

"She's fine," Cora replied. "She probably had just come back from a walk or something and was having a bit of a lie-down when you called, is all. I'll remind her to call you back when she can."

"Thanks. All right, I've got to run, Mummy. Anna needs me for something," Mary said, smirking at Anna. "Oh, and please tell Edith I'll call her on Facetime tonight. I have some new purchases that I want to show her."

"All right, I will. Do remember what I said, dear. Goodbye," Cora signed off.

Mary hung up the call and rolled her eyes as she passed the phone back to Anna. Turning again to the store clerk, she looked over the items with renewed zest.

"Bring me the matching pochettes and handkerchiefs that go with them, please," Mary requested, smiling eagerly.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downton Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

"And to what do I owe this honour?" Matthew said, smiling as he stepped aside to let Alex into the apartment. "You can't be done work so early?"

"I was able to wrap up a few matters and decided to put off tackling any others until tomorrow. You're lucky that I'm even here, actually. I'm on my way to pick up Anna, but wanted to stop in and see you first," Alex explained, taking off his shoes and coming into the living room.

"Well, here I am," Matthew said, handing him a Cherry Coke and sitting down in a large leather chair.

"I can't get over how much you love these things," Alex said, smiling as he opened his can of Cherry Coke and took a seat on the sofa. "How are you doing preparing for that audition for _Shattered_?"

"I think I'm ready," Matthew mumbled. "I've got another week to work on it. I've been practising with my normal accent and without. I honestly can't tell which one sounds better."

"And do you think that you have a good grasp of the supporting role?" Alex asked.

"I hope so," Matthew replied sheepishly. "It's quite new for me. I've never played the 'other man' before. I wondered what the mindset of someone like him would be and had trouble coming up with anything. What goes through a man's mind when he's contemplating stealing another man's wife?"

"I think part of the problem is he wouldn't be thinking with his mind, at least not only that," Alex said wryly.

"Clever," Matthew deadpanned. "Seriously, though, it seems like it would be fun to play someone without a strong moral compass, but the other parts of his story suggests that he's quite normal – single father raising a young daughter, dedicated police officer, so what, then?"

"I think you're making a mistake of trying to label the character as 'good' or 'bad', 'right' or 'wrong'. If you want to make him seem real, you need to play him as someone everyone would know, someone who people can easily relate to. It's just this particular secret that he has which makes him complicated. He wants her so badly that he forgets himself," Alex said. "That's how I read it in the script, anyway."

"You should be a producer," Matthew joked, sipping his Cherry Coke.

"Anyway, I don't think you'll need to look too far to find your motivation," Alex continued. "A man obsessed with a woman he can't have. It's practically tailor made for you."

"Don't start with me now," Matthew warned, looking at his friend pointedly. "I'll remind you that if it wasn't for Mary…"

"If it wasn't for Mary, and for you, Anna would not be my wife. Yes, I am well aware, thank you," Alex said, shaking his head. "I care about Mary. I care about you. I want you both to be happy, and I can't say I see a great deal of happiness in what the two of you are getting up to lately, not over the long term, anyway."

"So you've said…many times," Matthew noted. "We all can't have the easy fairytale that you got, you know. I love Anna, but she hardly made you work very much to win her hand."

"Trust me, she's more than making up for it now. I saw her for all of half an hour yesterday," Alex said, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "Anyway, this isn't about me and Anna. Look, I get it, all right? You don't want to let her go. You'll take any part of her that you can, which is why the two of you have your current arrangement. But, Matthew, you know that no good will come of this. It's far better to just be brave and back away now. Don't be afraid to call time on all of it, finally. You broke up. It was over. She made that very clear. What you're doing now, it's holding you back. Maybe in the future the two of you can be friends, but for now, you need to walk away."

"Friends," Matthew laughed ruefully. "I doubt very much that Mary and I are destined to be friends, after all that's happened."

"Destiny or not, I tend to agree. I would think it would be quite difficult to remain friends with someone who rejected your proposal," Alex said patiently. "Which makes me wonder, again, why you are subjecting yourself to the torture of still being at her beck and call?"

Matthew frowned and sipped his drink, looking down at the coffee table.

"All right, I'll drop it, until the next time I bring it up, and hopefully I won't have to because you'll have come to your senses by then," Alex said, holding his hands up. "Just, think it through, with your brain, rather than other body parts."

Matthew gave him a wry smile.

"Go on, fuck off and go and see your wife. Tell her I said hello and I still think she's mad to put up with you. God knows why I still do," Matthew said, waving Alex away.

"Fine, fine," Alex said, getting up from the sofa. He slapped hands twice and tapped fists with Matthew on his way out. "We should have a bit of a boys' night next week, to celebrate after your audition. I'll think of something for us to do."

"Don't jinx it. I need all the good luck I can get," Matthew muttered, sharing a smirk with Alex. "Later."

Alex left, closing the door behind him. Matthew reached over and grabbed his laptop, bringing it over to his side of the coffee table and opening the script again to rehearse his part.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

Mary left her shopping bags in the foyer and her coat and boots in the closet, her stockinged feet almost sighing in relief as she padded across the plush carpet and into the living room. She glanced around, spying a pile of fan mail on a side table, a rack of clothing samples that her stylist had sent over for her to consider ahead of up-fronts next month and a stack of scripts that Aunt Rosamund had couriered up from Los Angeles. Considering each of these with varying degrees of disinterest, she went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of some green concoction that was allegedly designed to detox and energize her, but which tasted horrible all the same. Coming back out and taking a careful sip, she looked over the various tasks awaiting her, in no hurry to decide what to tackle first.

She smiled, thinking to just a couple of hours ago when Anna had asked for the rest of the day off. It wasn't as though she needed Mary's permission to take a well-deserved break. She knew better than Mary did as to whether she was needed or not at any given time. Still, Mary took her time to ponder the request, just to see her good friend squirm a little. The truth was that Anna had chosen her duty to Mary over her husband countless times. With Mary not scheduled on set today, it was easy enough to let Anna have some personal time for once.

She laughed despite the taste of the green smoothie, which she'd gamely finished half of. Alex and Anna were rather adorable. Over two years into their marriage and they were still just as besotted as they were on their first date. Though Anna liked to set clear boundaries between work life and home life, and always maintained an air of complete professionalism, it wasn't difficult to figure out from the content smile on her face when she was texting with her husband, or thinking of him during the day. They were even more disgustingly cute when they were together, constantly holding hands, leaning towards each other to whisper some private endearment, or laughing together at a shared inside joke.

"You seem to have a full day of shopping ahead of you so I might just leave you to it, if that's all right. Alex finished his calls earlier than expected, so he wanted to know if he can take me away for the rest of the day," Anna had told her, speaking quickly. Her voice always sped up when she had a request involving Alex, as though to speak faster would improve her chances of gaining Mary's permission. Her face lit up when Mary finally gave her consent, leading the both of them to burst out laughing. When Alex arrived to whisk her away, he was wearing an equally smug grin.

Mary sighed as she wandered over and sat down on the large sectional. Anna had always been pragmatic and practical about everything in life. It was why Mary got on with her so well, among other reasons. Marriage had changed her though, relaxed her, given her a different perspective on what was truly important. She could still be firm and driven when necessary, but there was more of a balance to her now, a confidence that hadn't been there before. She didn't freak out over problems as much anymore, and though she was available at all hours depending on what Mary needed, she didn't agonize over work as much. It was as though she now knew the difference between what mattered and what didn't, and was far more at peace as a result.

Mary envied her, in a way, for being able to look at her life and not regret what could have been had she decided differently. In fairness though, Anna's ambition and goals in life weren't nearly as lofty as Mary's. Anna was a dedicated worker, but being a personal assistant was just a job to her, not her lifelong dream. By contrast, the places Mary wanted to go in life required singular commitment and complete discipline. Anna could afford to settle for balance, prioritize her relationship above her job. Mary refused to compromise where her career was concerned. Achieving success was all that mattered.

Leaning forward, she took the top most script from the stack and began leafing through it. There were coloured sticky tabs placed every few pages, emphasizing a particular line of dialogue that she found interesting or important the first time she'd sat down and read it properly. There was a lot to like about the lead role in this one. The quick take from it was that she would be playing a man's mistress, a woman with a specific agenda of her own that would not be fully revealed until the climax of the plot. The character was complicated, far more than just a pretty face, and had scenes that ranged from being happy and warm to bitchy and vengeful. It was far closer to the type of part that Mary had been looking for, which meant it would be far more competitive as well. The supporting role wasn't bad either, playing the innocent wife who ends up having an affair of her own, but that involved less screen time and wasn't as much of a challenge. The smart thing to do would be to prepare to audition for both, but make it clear which one she truly wanted.

As she flipped through the pages, she arched her eyebrow in contemplation. There was just something about the writing that jumped out at her, grabbed her attention. The film had a decent budget and a director in Thea Sharrock that Mary had worked with before, years ago back in London on a theatre production. It would attract a few A-list actresses, but it was neither a big budget tent pole film, nor an unknown independent project, so it suited her quite well. She smiled as she continued to read, thinking of all the career possibilities this role could bring.

Reaching over for her phone, she skimmed over a particularly snarky bit of dialogue that made her smile as she called Aunt Rosamund.

"Hello," Mary said cheerfully when she was put through to her aunt. "Thank you so much for sending up the latest batch of scripts. I like them all, and one in particular intrigues me, rather. I want you to book me to read for the lead role in _Shattered_. Yes, I couldn't put it down. The character has a depth that I really want to take on. I think this could end up working out perfectly."

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

"Mmm, have I ever told you that you can come up with the most brilliant ideas every so often?" Anna said, smiling as she kissed her husband lightly. The hot water bubbled around their shoulders as she straddled his lap, the two of them leaning against the contoured side of the hot tub. She reached past him and grabbed her wine glass from the deck, taking a long sip, then putting it back, grinning as he fed her a Bocconcini and cherry tomato skewer.

"I do have my moments, don't I?" he joked, putting the empty skewer on a plate and pulling her close, kissing her neck as his hands roamed down to her swimsuit-covered rear beneath the water.

"Watch it, Mr. Lewis. I'm no exhibitionist," she warned, doing nothing to stop him. "You may not care about what the neighbours think, but I most certainly do."

"I was wondering why you came out wearing a swimsuit," he said petulantly, kissing her again.

"Don't worry, it's coming off the minute we get back inside," she teased, laughing at his pleased reaction. "If you behave for now. How was your day?"

"Decidedly boring, thankfully," he said. "I've had enough excitement for now. We got paid on that last deal, so I'm trying to ease back a bit until June or July, but apparently the studios have other ideas."

"Don't complain about being busy," she told him. "We're lucky to have jobs in this business."

"You're right, though it doesn't feel that way some days," he agreed. "What about you? Spent a tough morning shopping, did you?"

"Ha ha," she said sarcastically. "Mary's been under a lot of pressure lately. Today was the first day she hasn't been on set in over a month. Henry's been so annoying lately. I think his mind is already gone off to Australia for _Thor_. He just hasn't been sharp for days now."

"Which must annoy Mary to no end," he said, smirking at the thought.

"She doesn't like wasting time on set," she said defensively. "She's all for joking around in between takes, but when the camera's rolling, she's all business, and that's how it should be."

"Well, I'm with her in this instance. Henry's just annoying. That stupid thing he does with his lips whenever he has a close-up, or some speech to give. It's ridiculous. I can't believe women find it at all attractive," he grumbled.

"He's very handsome," she stated. "It's just a shame he's got to ruin it by opening his mouth."

They both laughed.

"Did you hear that Sybil is coming up? She's taking a class here for a week," she asked.

"Matthew mentioned it, yeah," he confirmed. "You can bring her by the office, or she can come over here, if you want, but I doubt I'll see her otherwise."

Anna sighed and snuggled against his shoulder. "That's probably true. How is Matthew?"

"Not bad, the whole ongoing debacle with Mary aside," he replied, stroking her legs. "He's got a pretty important audition coming up next week. If it works out, it could be huge for him."

"Filming here?" she asked lightly.

"Yeah. It's that drama that I found the bridge financing for," he replied.

"Ah. Mary still doesn't know what we're doing for the hiatus. Her aunt keeps sending her the most horrid scripts. I hope she can find something soon," she said.

"I am getting quite annoyed about not knowing whether my wife will be living with me for the summer, you know," he said firmly.

She lifted her head and looked at him pleadingly. "Come on, babes…"

"Anna, we agreed, didn't we?" he asked pointedly.

She sighed and looked down, nodding her head.

"I shouldn't have to remind you, or scold you like some kind of caveman," he complained. "It makes me feel like I'm holding you back, like discussing this is punishing you somehow, stopping you from doing what you really want."

"It is what I really want!" she pleaded. "I want to have children with you, and yes, we did say we would start a family after two years. It's not wrong for you to bring it up."

"Then why do I feel like I'm pressuring you?" he asked plainly, holding her gaze. "Love, a baby will change our lives completely. We can't do this unless we're both entirely committed to it. Have you even told Mary?"

"No," she admitted, her voice quiet.

"Great," he muttered, shaking his head. "You do realize that it will only get harder, right? If Mary's career takes off, she could go into films permanently, which will mean going to a different shooting location every few months, and she won't settle down here, of all places. She'll live in London, or New York, or Los Angeles. Our home is here, Anna. That's what you told me. That's why I bought this house. I was ready to move to England for you."

"I know!" she said, biting her lower lip. "I…I just need to get her sorted for now. If she gets a part for the hiatus, then I'll know where she'll be, and I can plan my schedule accordingly. _Paladin_ is renewed for one more season, and probably will get one or two more beyond that, so we know we'll be here for another year, at least."

"Love, I need my wife," he said. "If we're putting this off for another year or two, then fine, but you need to figure that out and tell me so that I know what to expect, because once we start trying, it's for real. We'll discuss and decide everything together. I won't be a fucking sperm donor. You're not getting pregnant and flying across the world following Mary to go shoot on location in Croatia or wherever. No way."

"For God's sake, you're not a..." she almost shouted, then stopped and calmed herself. "You're not a sperm donor. You're my husband. I vowed to love and cherish you, remember?"

"As long as Mary's schedule permits?" he said childishly.

She laughed slightly at his annoyed look, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

"I promise that once I know where Mary will be this summer, that I will tell her that I want to start a family soon with my incredible husband and that I won't be able to follow her all over the place for much longer. We'll time it so that the due date is while I'm still scheduled to be here and she'll have to accept that I'm taking the full year off once the baby comes," she said with conviction. "And I promise that we will have our children here, and raise them here, just as we agreed when we got married. We talked about all of that because it was important, and it still is, I swear."

"And will you promise that I don't have to Skype with your mother every two weeks?" he asked. "She called again yesterday after you went back to Mary's and she kept me on the line for an hour."

"I can't make miracles happen, babes," she said, laughing and kissing him again. "I'm afraid that Smith women just can't get enough of you."

He smiled and kissed her back. "I love you, Anna. I don't want to be demanding, but I…"

"I love you too," she said, pressing a wet finger to his lips. "And you're not being demanding. You've taken a backseat to my career from the day we first met, and it's high time that you got some much deserved attention."

He smiled wider, his hands steadying her hips as she rubbed against him. "Don't think you can just distract me with your body, Mrs. Lewis."

"It seems to me that the strategy has worked quite well for years now, actually," she retorted, kissing his neck. "Besides, if we're going to have a baby, then we need to practise, don't we?"

He grunted as she pressed against him. "Anna…"

"Did I mention that I put my phone on silent and my email to 'out of office'?" she continued, her hand moving below the water and dipping into his shorts. "You've got me all to yourself for the rest of the afternoon and the entire evening. Whatever will we do with so much time?"

"You're really asking for it, you know that?" he rasped.

"Well, I suppose that depends on whether you're man enough to give it to me," she whispered, licking his ear.

"That's it!" he groaned, grabbing her legs and lifting her out of the water.

She yelped and laughed as he carried her out of the hot tub and scrambled into the house.

 **Toronto Pearson International Airport, Terminal 1, International Arrivals, Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

"Has her flight landed yet?"

"Yes, it has," Matthew replied, looking up at the large display above the sliding doors of the baggage area. The doors would open every so often, with passengers coming through pulling their luggage or pushing large carts, smiling and waving as their loved ones came over to greet them. "It says it's 'Just Arrived' which means she's probably still on her way to the gate."

"I told her to take an earlier flight," Tom Branson, Sybil's husband, grumbled from the other end of the phone. "Thanks for picking her up, mate. I know it's late."

"No problem at all," Matthew answered. "I've just got probably the most important audition of my career tomorrow afternoon, but I do my best work on little sleep anyway."

"Fucking hell," Tom complained.

"I'm kidding. It's fine. I'm just sorry you couldn't come up as well," Matthew said.

"I wish, but with the primary on Tuesday, I'm stuck here. They're talking about sending me to Rhode Island next week to cover the Sanders rally. This next stretch could be pivotal heading into California in May so it's all hands on deck," Tom said.

"Well, it could be worse. You could be assigned to cover Trump," Matthew joked.

"That's not funny. I almost was. Sybil said she'd divorce me if I took that assignment," Tom joked, laughing ruefully. "I'm pretty sure she was joking, but I didn't want to chance it. You know how Crawley girls can be."

"Better than most," Matthew said wryly. "All right, I better let you go and focus on paying attention for when she comes out. I'm sure she'll call you when she's at the hotel anyway."

"Yeah. Thanks again, mate. I'll talk to you later this week. Bye," Tom said, hanging up.

Matthew put his phone away and went over to lean against one of the large pillars nearby. He looked around, taking in his surroundings as he waited for Sybil. There was a large dinosaur exhibit off to one side that had attracted a group of children, clearly up past their bedtime. Other people milled about, watching hopefully whenever the doors slid open and a fresh batch of travellers came through. There were homemade signs held by expectant family members and tour operators and limo drivers with their clients' names printed on tablets or binders. The impatient ones paced about, or shifted their weight from side-to-side. The few seats around the area were all taken by those who could no longer be bothered to stand.

He exhaled slowly as he pondered the absurdity of this. Here he was, at the airport to meet his ex-girlfriend's youngest sister. He adored Sybil. They had always gotten along from the very beginning. She was so much…nicer…than Mary, far more kind and sensitive, at least openly, anyway. Mary was nice, and kind, and sensitive as well, but far more guarded about it. She reserved such behaviour for those she truly cared about, and didn't bother with what anyone else thought of her. Sybil was more friendly to everyone. Even after the break-up, they had kept in touch. He had been afraid that she wouldn't be permitted, blood being thicker than water, and all, but as usual, Sybil made her own decisions. He was grateful for it. He and Tom had become quite good friends over the years, and he didn't want to lose that either.

Alex's words from last week came back to him, probably because he expected Sybil to give him a similar lecture at some point during her visit. 'Just figure yourselves out!' she had said so many times over the past year, or more. How much better life would be if they could.

He frowned as his mind wandered to Mary. She was last over a few weeks ago, which meant he could expect another text from her at some point in the next short while. With Sybil visiting, she would be busier, but that wasn't a huge issue. Sybil was staying at a hotel and would probably see Mary a few times during the week at most, given how packed both of their schedules were. No, he expected that he would be getting a text from Mary at some point in the next week or so, and if he was being honest, he was looking forward to it.

It was madness what they were doing, but he couldn't stop, and apparently neither could she. He was always bothered before she came over, and regretful after she left, but during…well, the during was…the most terrific fun. Maybe it was the fear that each time would be their last time. Maybe he was converting all of his pent-up frustration into passion. Maybe he was trying to show her that she could never hope to have anyone better. For whatever reason, real or imagined, he couldn't think of what they were doing as being wrong, at least not for now. Their sex was ridiculously good, even better than before when they were together.

He smirked and shook his head. Milquetoast Matthew Reginald Crawley enjoying rough, meaningless sex with his ex. Goodness, it was a strange place, this Canada.

His eyes lit up as Sybil finally emerged, looking rather tired and pulling her suitcase along. He smiled as he took in her shorts and tank top. It was warm, but not _that_ warm, but he wasn't surprised. She had hated the winter so much that at the first sign of Spring she was probably outdoors tanning.

"Matthew!" she exclaimed, coming into his arms and kissing his cheek. "Oh, thank you so much for coming to meet me. I could have taken Uber into the city."

"It's all right. It's actually pretty fast to get out here. They have a new train shuttle that they built in the last while. It's not as fast as going to and from Heathrow, but there's free WiFi," he said, taking her suitcase from her and escorting her towards the train platform.

"As long as it gets us downtown. I'm ready to collapse. Did you talk to Tom?" she asked.

"He was rather anxious, as usual," he said, smiling at her knowingly. "I told him you'd call once you got checked in."

"Thank you," she said, leaning against him. "I'm sorry that I'm so knackered. I was going to have you take me out for a drink, but I'm afraid I'd be no good to you."

"No worries. I can't anyway. I've got an audition tomorrow so I should get to bed once I've seen you safely to your room," he advised.

"Oh! That's wonderful! What is it for?" she asked as he swiped his card to purchase their tickets and they got on to the empty train.

"A drama, seems rather major. There's no one of note attached to it yet. It's about a married couple who both have affairs and the fallout from it," he explained.

"That sounds rather spicy," she joked. "And what part in this drama are you up for?"

"The lover, of course. The one who lures the married woman into debauchery," he said, smirking at her.

"Oh God! That's perfect!" Sybil laughed, clapping her hands. "They must have taken one look at your photograph and thought 'now there is a man with no scruples'."

"Thanks," he said wryly. "I was lucky. Alex got me the audition. I doubt they would have looked at me otherwise."

"Well, it's always who you know, as they say," she said, smiling at him as the train pulled away and wound through the suburbs bound for downtown. "What's the name of what will be your big break? Your arrival to the world of acting stardom?"

"Don't play with me," he said, smiling at her. "It's just a working title for now. They have to run it by marketing and all of that, so it could change. But, so far, it's called _Shattered_."

Sybil blinked in surprise. "Did you say _Shattered_?" she asked.

He nodded.

"W…well…" she said, smiling mysteriously to herself. "Good luck, darling. I do sincerely hope you get it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Previously:**

 **Toronto Pearson International Airport, Terminal 1, International Arrivals, Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

"Oh God! That's perfect!" Sybil laughed, clapping her hands. "They must have taken one look at your photograph and thought 'now there is a man with no scruples'."

"Thanks," he said wryly. "I was lucky. Alex got me the audition. I doubt they would have looked at me otherwise."

"Well, it's always who you know, as they say," she said, smiling at him as the train pulled away and wound through the suburbs bound for downtown. "What's the name of what will be your big break? Your arrival to the world of acting stardom?"

"Don't play with me," he said, smiling at her. "It's just a working title for now. They have to run it by marketing and all of that, so it could change. But, so far, it's called _Shattered_."

Sybil blinked in surprise. "Did you say _Shattered_?" she asked.

He nodded.

"W…well…" she said, smiling mysteriously to herself. "Good luck, darling. I do sincerely hope you get it."

 **Chapter 3:**

 **Laurentian Ballroom, Four Seasons Hotel, Yorkville, Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

"I want you. I want you with me. Don't go back. Don't go back to him. Stay. Say you'll stay."

Matthew looked down at the carpet, trying to block out the man muttering to himself a few chairs away. Clearly he was an actor, here for the same reason Matthew was – to audition for a role in _Shattered_. Ironically, he was auditioning for the same role, based on the dialogue he was practising over and over. While Matthew had been nervous from the moment he walked into the hotel, he was quietly confident that he had at least practised that particular scene better than his would-be rival.

He looked across the ballroom, turned into a waiting room for the auditions that were taking place across the hall. There were four other people here, all of them having assigned time slots by the studio. He had barely slept last night, so he went to the gym this morning to get his blood pumping. Refreshed and refocused, he had promptly shown up here over an hour early. After wandering the lobby for a bit and circling the block several times, he had just come upstairs and decided to wait. Though he was still nervous, he thought it the correct decision. The Four Seasons was located in posh Yorkville, famous for the most expensive shopping in the country, as well as multimillion dollar homes and condo buildings. Walking around this area was a bit intimidating. It wasn't that Matthew was affected by wealth and luxury. He'd seen plenty of that in his life. But the character he was hoping to play didn't come from that world, and he didn't want to stray from the proper mindset ahead of his audition.

His stomach rumbled and he frowned, glancing around to make sure no one noticed. In his haste, he hadn't eaten much before coming up. Of course, there was no such thing as a quick stop café in the Four Seasons. The lobby featured a bar with expensive drinks and fancy appetizers. The restaurant on the second floor was run by Michelin starred chef Daniel Boulud. The studio did provide water, juice, fruit and yogurt in the waiting room. While it wasn't ideal, Matthew got up out of his seat and grabbed an apple and a bottle of water and ducked out of the waiting room to hopefully find a quiet corner to eat his snack. The last thing he needed was to have his stomach growl in the middle of his audition.

* * *

"I didn't do it for you, and I didn't do it for us," Mary said sharply, her eyes wild, hands curled into fists at her sides. "I did it because all I've ever done since the day we met was to hide in the background and play by your rules. Don't call the house. Don't text you. Don't show up at your office in case your secretary might catch on. I'm sick of it! I'm sick of being the dirty secret that you conveniently bring out when you want some action and your ego stroked after she's trampled all over you again. We play by my rules now, or not at all."

"You're a fucking crazy bitch."

"Why? For going against you? For opening your wife's eyes to what happens when she neglects you and doesn't give you what you want? For standing up for myself finally? If that's the case, then call me a crazy bitch because I'd rather be that than the dumb slut that you want me to be!" Mary fired back.

"I…damn you…you've ruined everything!"

"For you, maybe, but it will only be temporary. You'll survive," Mary said coldly, her chin raised, lips curled into a snarl. "As for me, I've never felt better."

"Brava!" Thea called, clapping her hands.

Mary smiled and bowed slightly. She stood opposite a wide table, four people seated on the other side who had spent the past half hour poking, prodding and judging her. Thea, the director, sat in the centre, and was grinning at her and nodding in encouragement. The casting director, one of the producers, who had run lines with her, and an assistant. Two cameras set up in the small ballroom had filmed her entire audition.

"That was very nice, Mary, very nice," Thea said warmly, jotting down some notes.

"Thanks for coming in," the producer said, nodding his head to Mary. "We expect to start contacting people about callbacks on Wednesday or Thursday, and we'll bring people in next Monday."

"Thank you for the time," Mary replied confidently. Inside, she was nervous, wondering if she should offer to read another scene for them, perhaps in another accent, or whether she should give them her opinion on the character and the dynamic with the male lead, anything to let them know she was particularly serious about this and had gone the extra step to be well prepared. They were all now looking down at their papers, so she decided to trust that she'd done enough and walked from the room.

The studio had taken over the entire sixth floor of the Four Seasons to hold the auditions. One of the ballrooms was used as a waiting area while another was the audition room. The rest of the floor was kept closed so they could control all access to the space. Auditions were coordinated so those who finished would not have to come into contact on their way to the elevators with those waiting their turn. Realistically, this was unlikely anyway. Actors were all ultra-competitive by nature, and even those who were friends wouldn't want to share details about the process, lest they be giving away an advantage to a rival. Even though everyone had the same script and everyone knew how auditions worked generally, there were an infinite number of ways to interpret the dialogue. The last thing that Mary wanted to do was talk to anyone about her particular take on the character or the scene she read.

Despite that, her curiosity nagged at her. She hadn't run into anyone she knew in the lobby when she came to the hotel, or in the waiting room. Though it didn't particularly matter, she did wonder if she was competing against Anne Hathaway or Natalie Portman or an actress of their profile for the lead actress role. She wasn't naïve enough to think that every candidate was treated the same, but she did like to think that everyone had to earn their part. Your reputation could get you an audition, and even move you up the queue in consideration, but everyone had to at least prove they could do the job.

Smiling to herself, she paused at the door and peered into the waiting room, trying to appear nonchalant as she looked over the occupants. There were four people – three men and a woman – all sitting patiently. The woman had earphones on and was off in her own world. One of the men was muttering to himself, and the other two were staring intently at their phones. Mary idly pictured being paired with each of the three men onscreen. They didn't look familiar to her, and she didn't even know if they were auditioning for the male lead role, but she wondered all the same. Deciding that none of them were too tall for her, but that none of them looked particularly noteworthy, she turned her attention back to the woman. She seemed to be younger than Mary, wasn't recognizable, which probably meant she didn't have as much experience or as high a profile. Maybe she was reading for one of the lesser roles?

"Mary?"

Mary almost jumped in surprise as she whirled around, feeling as though she had been caught spying or something equally petty. She was about to come up with an excuse when the sight of the person who discovered her made her mouth drop open in complete shock.

"Matthew?" she blurted out. "What…what are you doing here?"

He blinked, as though stunned it was actually her. "Erm, I'm here for an audition, which I assume you are as well?"

"Yes," she replied, unable to come up with anything else up on the spot, or a reason as to why she shouldn't be truthful with him. "I just finished. I was reading for Sidney."

"Of course you were," he said, smiling and nodding his head. "I'm sure that you were great."

"Well, we'll have to see, I suppose," she said, smiling politely. "You're up for…David?"

"Oh, no, no," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't want to have any false hopes. I'm reading for Nico. That seemed better suited for me."

"Ah," she said, nodding in understanding. She paused for a moment, not quite sure what else to say.

"Matthew Crawley?"

They both turned as the assistant came down the hall and called for him. Matthew raised his hand and nodded to her.

"They're ready for you now," the assistant announced.

"Right," he said, swallowing nervously. He glanced over at Mary. "Well, I'm up, it seems."

"Good luck," she said, giving him a reserved smile.

He nodded to her, then quickly went down the hall with the assistant.

Mary watched him go, arching her eyebrow as he was ushered into the audition room. A number of thoughts flew through her mind, until she finally willed herself to turn and head for the elevators, taking out her phone to text Anna to let her know she was on her way back to Pinewood.

* * *

"Please don't be angry with me. We always knew that this was just a fling."

"A fling?" Matthew repeated, scowling in disbelief. He opened his mouth and raised his hand, then quickly dropped it and shook his head, turning away slightly. "It was never a fling for me, never, not even from the first moment," he said, lowering his voice.

"But what future would we have? You don't know that we'll be happy together."

"I know that you're not happy with him," he said firmly, turning back around and putting on his fiercest glare. "I know that with me, you smile, you laugh, you're warm, and funny, and…" he swallowed, taking a deep breath. "You're happy with me. Maybe you won't be in a year, or more, and maybe you will, but I know that if you go back to him now, you'll be miserable for the rest of your life."

The assistant did not bother to read the next line. Thea and the others were silent, watching Matthew closely. The cameras continued to roll. He kept his gaze on the assistant, holding the same pose as before. He had been reading lines for well over half an hour now, and had no idea why things had stopped, but he wasn't going to drop out of character until he was absolutely sure he was finished.

"That was…excellent, Matthew," Thea said finally, nodding her head slowly.

"Really good," the producer echoed politely, glancing over at the others at the table.

Matthew relaxed and smiled, nodding in relief. "Thank you."

"Well, um, we're going to be calling people back around Wednesday. We have your contact information, don't we?" the producer asked, looking at Matthew's resume. "Ah, yes, there it is. Great. Great."

"Thank you, hope to hear from you," Matthew said, smiling to cover up the sudden tightening in his chest. _'Hope to hear from you?'_ God, that sounded pathetic, he thought.

The assistant got up and escorted Matthew outside and down the hall towards the elevators.

"Thanks for coming in, Matthew," she said pleasantly. "I do hope you get a callback. I don't say that to everyone, just so you know. You were quite good, though I don't have any say in the matter, I'm afraid."

"That's all right. I appreciate it nonetheless," he replied, smiling at her. For some reason, hearing her English accent made him feel better. "Well, maybe I'll see you Monday then, Miss…?"

"Lavinia," Lavinia replied. "Lavinia Swire. Goodbye, Matthew."

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

Anna waved tiredly to the Uber driver and followed the cobbled path to the steps up to her front door. She pressed her finger to the scanner and exhaled as the electronic lock chirped and blinked green, allowing her inside her house. Her bag was thrown on to the side table and her heels were tossed across the marble floor. She tugged at her hair tie and shook out her long blonde tresses as she wandered down the lit hallway to the kitchen, a long sigh leaving her lips. She glanced wryly at the digital clock on the microwave, the blue numbers telling her it was hours later than the time she had promised Alex she would be home.

Shaking her head, she shuffled over to the fridge and took out a fruit smoothie, the berry flavour tasting sweet and refreshing on her tongue. Dinner with Mary and Sybil had run late, and the weather had been so nice that they'd decided to wander around downtown, showing Sybil some of the sights, from the popular 'TORONTO' sign in front of city hall, each letter lit up in different colours and crawling with tourists taking photos, to the open city block of Yonge-Dundas Square, with its huge video screens, large crowds and buskers playing guitar, drums and doing magic tricks. Sybil took it all in eagerly, quite pleased to be in a large city other than New York. No, in the years she'd lived here, Anna knew that Toronto wasn't New York, or London, but she had grown to appreciate its distinct character, and preferred it to those other metropolises, to be honest. It was comforting to be able to go from the bustle of downtown one minute, and back home to her quiet neighbourhood the next. Most other large cities didn't allow for such easy commutes.

A stack of her mail was sitting neatly on the granite countertop of the kitchen island. She didn't bother going through it, eyeing it suspiciously before she opened a cabinet and grabbed a protein bar to munch on. The pile was mainly fashion and entertainment industry magazines and papers, which she already got electronically and probably had already read. She spent nearly as much time staying current on the business as she did organizing Mary's schedule. While Lady Rosamund kept Mary informed on the latest goings-on, Anna took it upon herself to be up to date so she could offer Mary her opinion and speak knowledgably about whatever might come up. She was Mary's assistant, not her agent, but she didn't want Mary to think there was anything they couldn't discuss, so there was always a lot of reading and research to be done, in addition to her normal job duties.

While Mary and Sybil took selfies tonight, for example, Anna was texting her contacts to see if she could find out anything about the auditions for _Shattered_. Who else was up for Mary's role? Who were the actors being considered for the male lead? It wasn't just a question of whether Mary could play the part; she most certainly could. Whether the other actors were too tall or too short, whether they had any history acting with Mary before, whether their respective styles matched or not, everything was up for consideration. Mary had lost roles in the past because she was too tall, or because her particular accent for the part wasn't the same as another's; small details mostly beyond her control that had cost her dearly. If they could learn as much as they could before the callback, they would hopefully put her in a better position going back in.

Anna reminded herself to ask Alex if he'd heard anything. Normally, after he arranged the financing, he was out of the project entirely, but as a practice, he stayed in regular contact with the studio heads. There were times where he'd gone to a premiere of one of the films he'd helped finance, mainly when she said she wanted to, but he had no real involvement in the actual production. His investors cared if the movie made money or not. The precise details of the creative process and so forth were meaningless details to them.

She smiled and finished her protein bar, turning off the lights on her way to the stairs. Her husband had to be asleep by now. He had been on the phone all day with investors in San Francisco, discussing the next file, and with the time difference, he probably had been working until close to midnight. That had made her feel a bit better about staying out so late, reasoning that he wouldn't have had time to spend with her anyway had she come home when she said she would. She sighed again as she reached the stairs, the excuse ringing hollow to her own ears. Alex would have dropped everything the moment she got home. He always did, because he always put her first, and always had.

She moved down the upstairs hallway and went into her dressing room, trying to be as quiet as possible. When Matthew had first introduced her to his good friend visiting London from Toronto all those years ago, she had been rather stunned. She thought Alex was beautiful, to be sure, but so unlike the men she was used to. He was a foot taller than her, first of all, which wasn't that uncommon. However, his black hair and hazel eyes, his slightly darker skin and the polished, but decidedly non-British accent were intriguing to her. She would later find out that he had met Matthew and become fast friends when Alex's visiting high school team won a football tournament in Manchester. Something about Alex nutmegging Matthew and leaving him on his arse planting the seeds of their friendship. She also found out that Alex was a quarter Chinese on his mother's side, and had travelled all over the world, despite being just a year older than her. He was fluent in English, Mandarin, Cantonese, French, Spanish and conversant in Italian. They had spent every day of his two-week holiday together, and by the end of it she was completely head-over-heels in love with him, which was shocking in and of itself. For a girl from Yorkshire who had never set foot outside the UK, having a long-distance relationship with a rather exotic man who lived across the Atlantic seemed insane.

But they had made it work. He called, or texted, emailed, or video conferenced with her every single day since that first trip. He was the last person she spoke to before going to bed, no matter the hour. Within six months he was back in England for her birthday, and Mum had told her to never let him leave. Anna suspected Mum was more impressed by Alex's job and obvious wealth than anything else about him. She had never been so enthusiastic about one of Anna's boyfriends before, let alone one who wasn't even English. Still, six months in, Anna couldn't help but have silly dreams about the future also. Try as she might, the only thing she found she didn't like about Alex was his taste in music, which wasn't even that bad, to be fair.

They had carried on long-distance for another year, with Alex visiting every few months and even flying her out on two unforgettable trips to Spain and Canada. When Mary decided to leave everything behind, move to Toronto to film the pilot for _Paladin_ , and take her along, it was almost too perfect. Suddenly she could see Alex every day for an entire month. They could act like a real couple and find out everything about each other, good and bad, being at close quarters. The show was picked up for a full ten-episode order based on the early scenes alone, and one month in Toronto became six. Anna reasoned that this was exactly what she needed, to put her seemingly flawless fairytale relationship into the crucible of real life and see whether it would burn and melt away.

They were engaged a year later, married a year after that.

He proposed to her at the top of Mount Royal in Montreal under sunny blue skies after having a delicious picnic lunch. The wedding was back in England. He flew his friends over from Toronto and his parents in from Shanghai. She got along great with her in-laws, but they left them alone for the most part. They spoke maybe once a month, if that. Mum called Alex far more often.

She threw her clothes and underwear into the hamper and padded into the bathroom, stepping into the shower and having a quick scrub and rinse. As the multiple jets of hot water soaked her from all sides, she hummed contentedly. No, she couldn't have imagined this life back when they first met, or even over the early months when they were dating. How could she? How could she have thought that a short five years after meeting him, that they'd be married and living in one of the richest neighbourhoods in the world, in a house three times bigger than the one she grew up in back in England? When Mum had first come to visit, Anna was terrified she might want to move in. She'd always been raised to work hard, and she still did, but it wasn't to earn a living. She donated most of her salary from Mary to charity each year, not really needing it for herself.

Turning off the water, she towelled herself off and slipped into her silk robe, going over to sit down at her vanity and dry her hair. She had always expected to live a rather simple life, just like Mum and pretty much every generation of her family before her. The thing was that her life with Alex was actually quite simple. They went to fancy restaurants for the food, not the reputation, and were just as likely to try a new food truck or hole in the wall they'd heard good things about. Their dates consisted of walking around the many enclaves of the city - Little Italy or Greek Town - discovering small book stores, bakeries and flower shops just five minutes from home, grocery shopping in Kensington Market, or Chinatown, or spending the day biking along the lake.

They did splurge, too, but never to excess. There was the odd weekend trip to Miami or Las Vegas whenever they got tired of the cold, like this past February when the wind chill hit -39C, and other jaunts that they took because they could afford to. He flew her to see the cherry blossoms in Washington D.C. when she'd come across photos on the internet, and when he discovered a particularly pleasing wine one night at dinner, she arranged for them to visit the winery…in Napa Valley. There were annual trips to Montreal to watch the F1 race and New York to see the tennis, but they didn't flaunt their money, pop bottles at nightclubs, or do anything just for show. She spent more time managing Mary's social media accounts than she did her own, most of her photos with Alex kept for themselves, and not plastered across the internet.

She tossed the towels into the basket and opened the door to their bedroom. The lamp on her nightstand was lit, as usual. Alex was asleep, shirtless, as usual.

She came over and looked down at him, smiling as she took him in. Men like him didn't end up with women like her. Rich, successful businessmen married women like Mary, or her sisters, women who also came from money and knew all the rules of Society and were raised to be accomplished hostesses and supportive wives. Men like him didn't fall in love with the only child of a housekeeper, someone who went to public school all her life and who's idea of a perfect meal before she met him was hot Sheppard's pie and a cold beer.

She smiled and shook her head in wonder. They fought, not often, but enough. He got annoyed when she didn't answer her phone by the second ring, or reply to texts within two minutes, no matter the excuse. She hated how picky he was about food, refusing to eat anything Indian, or perfectly delicious items like scallops, avocado, mango, and lamb, all because he claimed to not like the taste, even though he couldn't recall when he had ever even tried them. He was rather needy, too. He always had to hold her hand, or put his arm around her shoulders, or fondle her ass, even when they were just sitting around. He would hug her from behind and hold her, even when she was trying to cut vegetables or brush her teeth, which was ridiculously childish, she felt. Theirs was far from a perfect marriage, but it was still beyond her wildest dreams.

And of course, there was the sex.

Quite simply, he wanted her, not like most husbands, not just every few nights, but constantly. He was voracious, and insatiable, and entirely obsessed with her. In the early days, he was a complete gentleman. Their first time together hadn't been until months after they started dating, when he came back for her birthday. But once she moved to Toronto, she learned that he was ready and willing all the time. He still was Alex, though, which meant rather than try and jump her at all hours, or boss her around and demand things, he calmly explained to her that he pretty much desired her all the time. He said it with remarkable logic, even going into great detail about what exactly about her, and only her, made him so heated. She was stunned, flattered, confused and aroused all at once, and that hadn't changed in the years since. He always let her initiate, never forced her, or even whinged for it. It was addictive, having this type of power. She'd never experienced it like this with any other man. Past boyfriends had cheated on her, or fantasized about other women, and after numerous bad relationships, she had accepted that she was just a plain girl. She never thought she was the type of woman who could inspire such hunger. He was always composed and kind, but the moment she kissed him with any amount of passion, he was all over her, and better still, he could go for hours.

She smirked and undid her robe, dropping it from her naked body to the floor. Most nights when she came home so late, she was exhausted. She would climb into bed, kiss him and fall asleep with him spooned behind her. After how patient he'd been with her lately, and still feeling sufficiently buzzed from her night out, she was determined that tonight, they wouldn't just go to sleep right away.

She was pretty much convinced that he always woke up when she came home anyway. Despite her attempts to be quiet, he was probably able to hear the door open and close, her footsteps as she moved about the house, the sound of the shower and hair dryer. He always kept his eyes closed when she came to bed, probably because he didn't want to make it seem like he was waiting up for her and make her feel even more guilty, and partly because he wanted to see whether she would just go straight to sleep or if she was up for anything else. As she got into bed and pulled the duvet down to reveal his boxer briefs, she was quite sure he was very awake, indeed.

"Alex," she whispered, leaning down and kissing his chest. "I'm home, babes."

He hummed lazily, his eyes still closed as she moved down to kiss his stomach. Her hand rubbed his thigh, then took hold of him.

"Mmm, you are awake, aren't you?" she drawled, deftly pulling his shorts down and baring him fully. Her hand took hold of him, a wicked idea coming to her as she kissed her way further along his body and finally swiped him with her tongue, nice and slowly.

"Love," he whispered, turning his head into the pillows as she took him into her mouth.

She worked him gradually at first, a shot of desire moving down her spine as she felt him grow thick and hard. Pulling off of him, she stroked him until she felt him thrust against her hand.

"Alex?" she asked, facing away from him as she watched him respond to her attentions.

"Yes, love?" he rasped, opening his eyes and taking in her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, her pale back, the curve of her bottom.

"Have a go," she said, her voice liquid as she shifted, raising up on all fours and bringing her leg over his head. Facing his feet, her eyes focused entirely on his arousal as she lowered her hips towards his mouth.

"Oh, Anna," he groaned as he felt her lips on him again. Delirious at what they were doing, he brought her down to him, her muffled moan matching his.

* * *

"You know, if Mary gets that part, we'll be filming here over the summer, then it'll be a month or so in England, and we'll be right back here for the next season of _Paladin_. You might have your wife living with you for eleven of the next twelve months," Anna said, smiling as the shower poured down over them. "Won't that be remarkably novel?"

"I'll believe it when I see it," he growled, rubbing her back as she stroked him lightly. After their lovemaking, he'd brought her to the shower to rinse off. Much to his surprise and delight, she still seemed awake and energetic afterwards, despite it being almost three in the morning now.

"I'm just pointing out that this will be the longest we'll be living together since…well, ever," she said lightly, biting her lower lip as she felt him stiffen in her hand. "No more freedom for you, I'm afraid. You're going to have the Missus around far more often."

"Except for the odd night that you spend at Mary's," he countered.

"And what about the many nights that I'll be spending here?" she asked, squeezing him intently.

"I almost don't want to tell you what plans come to mind. They might scare you off," he warned, picking her up off the floor easily and kissing her. "Better to just wash up and go to sleep now with my squeaky clean reputation intact."

"Sleep is for when we're tired," she teased, wrapping her legs around him. "And I know I'm anything but. As for your reputation, it's a bit late for you to change it now in my eyes. So, let's see what you've got left."

She laughed when he pinned her against the glass wall of the shower, holding on to her legs. She moaned when he thrust into her, finding and seizing his mouth in a fierce kiss.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

"Stay still," Matthew threatened, his voice firm, but betraying a hint of mischief. He pushed her legs apart, kissing his way down one thigh and up the other, deliberately avoiding the one spot where she desperately wanted to feel his mouth on her.

"Oh, you fucking merciless…oh…" Mary moaned, closing her eyes and shaking her head back and forth. Her arms were thrown back above her head, her back arched, her hips squirming on the bed as she tried to follow his evasive lips and tongue.

"Tell me that you want it," he whispered, pressing his tongue to her as lightly as he could.

"Oh my God! I want it!" she shouted, her hips bucking from just that one touch.

"Tell me you'll do anything for it," he continued, moving his hand over and flicking her with his thumb.

"Matthew, damn it!" she rasped, opening her eyes and glaring at his smug expression as he looked up at her from between her legs.

"Tell me," he ordered, kissing ever closer, but still not close enough.

"Anything!" she called, her voice pleading now. "Anything! Everything you want!"

"Mmm, good girl," he said darkly.

He gave her centre a light kiss, then another, gradually growing more firm and insistent. She gasped and moaned as he built her up, adding his tongue and increasing the pressure until her arousal was blazing. She shouted and cried and whimpered and screamed as he gave her one finger, then two, easily destroying her defences until she surrendered to the inevitable.

"Yes! Yes!" she gasped, then yelped as she went over, a series of shocks wracking her body. He kissed and caressed her as she shook and gulped in air, her legs falling weakly to the bed.

For several moments, the only sound in the room was her heavy breathing as she tried to calm herself. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw him sitting up, watching her, an arrogant smirk on his face, his body taut and ready. She glanced down and watched him touch himself, swallowing in anticipation.

"Turn over," he said thickly.

She could only nod and obey, her pulse racing.

* * *

"How did your audition go?" she asked, heading into the kitchen and getting a bottle of water.

"Fine," he replied, leaning against the couch in the living room.

"Just 'fine'?" she asked, tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear as she searched for her shoes. They had been quite frantic and hurried earlier when she arrived, a trail of clothes leading from the foyer to the bedroom as they didn't bother with pleasantries before stripping each other naked. Now showered and dressed once more, she was ready to go, but for her Jimmy Choos. "What was your sense of it?"

"Fine. My sense of it was that it went fine," he repeated, not moving as she found one of the sandals under the coffee table.

"Did Thea say anything in particular? Did she remember you?" she pressed, looking at him curiously.

"She thought I did well. I didn't talk to her about before. Maybe she remembered me. She didn't mention it," he replied curtly.

"Well, you'll have to let me know if you get a callback. Here's hoping," she said pleasantly, coming over and kissing him on the cheek before heading for the door.

"Why? What's the point?" he muttered.

"Pardon?" she asked, frowning as she turned around and looked back at him.

"If I get a callback or not, what does it matter to you?" he said, looking over at her blankly. "You've got bigger fish to fry."

"I hope that I get a callback, yes, but that doesn't mean I can't wonder if you get one as well," she noted.

"I'm not referring to your ability to multitask, I'm saying it's of no real concern to you so there's no need to tell you if I do," he replied.

"How can you say it's of no concern to me when I just asked you to tell me?" she demanded, now both confused and growing angry. "I should think it rather obvious that I do want to know, seeing as I brought it up."

"Just because you raise something in conversation does not mean you actually care about what the answer is," he said, waving his hand in the air. "So no, I won't be telling you if I get a callback or not, not when there's no need."

"I don't understand you sometimes," she said tiredly, shaking her head as she turned away again.

"That's for certain," he mumbled, looking up at the ceiling.

"You know, when you have a conversation with someone, it's common courtesy to actually speak up so they can hear what you say, rather than throw passive aggressive whispers in the air like some high school juvenile," she blasted, spinning around and glaring at him.

"You're one to speak about courtesy and what's the done thing!" he answered, giving her an annoyed glare of his own. "You got what you wanted out of me tonight, so just go on and leave. There's no need to patronise me with questions about topics that you ultimately don't give a fuck about."

Her mouth fell open as she looked at him in shock.

"Are you saying you didn't get what you wanted tonight?" she challenged, her cheeks warming. "What else would you like? Want to give me a few more spankings, is that it? Is there a part of my face that you left uncovered by accident, or did I not swallow fast enough for you?"

He grimaced and looked away as though she'd physically slapped him.

"Just go," he said tightly, not looking at her, his voice dripping with rage.

She glared at him for a few more moments, daring him to meet her eyes. When he didn't, she took off, wrenched the door open and stormed down the hall.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

Anna walked briskly down the line of trailers, reaching Mary's and heading up the short steps. She knocked on the door quickly before ducking inside.

"It's Lady Rosamund," she called breathlessly, coming over and holding out her phone.

Mary sat up in bed and blinked several times to clear her head. Nodding to Anna in understanding, she took the phone and swallowed before answering.

"Yes, it's me," she said.

"Mary! Hello, darling. I have wonderful news! I've heard back from the studio and you've got a call-back on _Shattered_ for next Monday!" Rosamund gushed.

Mary closed her eyes and smiled in relief. Opening them again, she accepted her mug of tea from Anna and took a sip before continuing. "That's wonderful! Oh, I'm so very glad."

"As you should be! They loved you. It's not at all surprising, but they said they were very impressed with the obvious amount of work you put in to prepare. Thea said you've improved by leaps and bounds since she last directed you! Oh, Mary, I am so very pleased for you!" Rosamund continued.

Mary grinned at Anna, her pulse racing. This was it. All of her hard work was about to pay off huge. There was no guarantee, of course. She didn't have the job…yet. But she had made the final cut. There couldn't be more than three or four actresses up for the role, at most, so she had a real shot. Though it was unwise to get ahead of herself, she couldn't help but think of the possibilities if this all worked out. A lead actress film credit with a major studio on her resumé would make the industry take notice, show she wasn't just a television star. She would be considered for all the roles she had to fight to even audition for up until now.

"Well, one step at a time, but this does raise many possibilities. Who knows, maybe one day I'll be more known for playing Sidney Wilson than I am for playing Empress Jade Aster," she said, grinning happily.

"Ah, well, about that, Mary," Rosamund said tightly. "They did love you, and they said you were absolutely wonderful, but you see, actually, they envision you being better suited for the role of Christina. You're being called back to read for her."

"What?" Mary exclaimed, her eyes widening as she sat up straight. "But Christina is the wife, the supporting role. She's on screen for barely half the time!"

"She's on screen for about 60%, compared to Sidney, actually," Rosamund offered. "There's still quite a lot for you to work with, though. She's in the dark at first, but slowly figures things out and comes into her own by the end of the movie. It could be quite powerful."

"She's the victim," Mary sneered, leaning forward and grimacing as she covered her eyes with her hand. "She's too stupid to see that her husband is cheating on her, then rather than do something about it, she allows herself to be seduced and have an affair, showing she's no better than he is. She's a cliché, a stereotypical jilted wife. Oh, God, this is horrible!"

"Now, now, Mary, it's still a significant supporting role in a film from a major studio," Rosamund said. "This will do wonders for you."

"If I get it, and if anyone even notices me," she grumbled. "Who's up for Sidney? You must have found out, surely."

Rosamund paused before replying. "There's a few they're still considering, but Natalie Dormer is in the lead from what I hear."

"Of course," Mary scoffed, rolling her eyes. "She's already played the mistress to great acclaim. It's all neat and tidy."

"Mary, I know this is a disappointment for you, but you mustn't see it that way," Rosamund tried again.

"Thank you. I've got to go. I'll talk to you later," Mary said shortly, hanging up before her aunt could reply. She frowned and shook her head, handing the phone back to Anna.

"So they want you for the supporting role, then," Anna said.

"Apparently they do," Mary said wearily. "I'll need to re-read the entire script. I only skimmed over Christina's lines to get an idea of what Sidney thought of her."

Anna nodded. "We'll get right on it and have you ready for Monday. By the time you're through, they'll wish they had chosen you for the lead."

Mary smiled wanly, all the possibilities that had crossed her mind just moments ago vanishing just as quickly. After several moments of silence, she got to her feet.

"Grab your trainers. We're going for a run, a long one," she ordered, heading over to the small dresser for her workout clothes.

Anna smiled ruefully and went to fetch her own things in the closet.

 **Bayview Avenue, Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

Matthew grunted and rose from the saddle, balancing himself as he pressed on the pedals of his bike, taking short breaths as he steadily biked up the steep hill. Cars sped by him as he stayed well on the shoulder, maintaining a steady cadence, his bike computer showing him his heart rate, watts generated and speed. Halfway up the climb, the road flattened out momentarily and he pushed harder into the second incline, his legs protesting in pain. Groaning out loud now, he kept on, powering his way up and over the final crest, shifting into an easier gear as he turned off into the grocery store parking lot at the top of the hill.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, keeping an eye out for traffic as he pedalled through the parking lot and turned on to a flat street that led into a residential neighbourhood. It was about a 20km loop from downtown, up this hill and back again. He liked taking it as it was for advanced riders and was a great workout, traffic was lighter compared to downtown, and it led into Leaside, one of the nicer areas of the city. The houses weren't as expensive as Alex and Anna's in Rosedale to the south, but the neighbourhood was old, with tree-lined streets and decent sized yards. Coming up here, to midtown, allowed him to get away while still staying in the core of the city, and the houses reminded him of his childhood home in Manchester.

His mind wandered as he went, working the lactic acid out of his legs. The producer on _Shattered_ had said they would be doing callbacks on Wednesday and while today was still Wednesday, it was now late afternoon on Wednesday, and he hadn't received a call yet. That could mean anything, or nothing, but what it did mean was that whatever the casting director had gotten up to all day, calling him had not been on the agenda as of yet. They had his agent's number as well, but Matthew figured he would be called directly. Regardless, he'd stayed in his apartment until just past lunch waiting, and finally decided to get outside and enjoy the gorgeous warm weather.

Being an actor meant dealing with rejection. That came with the territory, but that didn't mean one ever got used to it entirely. Early on in his career, Matthew took it all constructively. He found value in the audition process, meeting people and getting feedback, even if it was superficial comments, mostly. He was young and just starting out, and not expected to compete with established actors, let alone the top stars. His time was best spent soaking it all in and learning as much as he could. Rejection was an educational opportunity.

Years on and rejection was a cruel slap in the face now. He had gone on so many auditions that he was well familiar with the process, the way that casting directors and producers gave out false encouragement and false hopes, the way that you could be tricked into thinking you'd nailed a scene, only to find out later you didn't even get a callback. Sometimes he thought they picked the winning candidates using a coin flip or a dart board, so inexplicable were some of the decisions he had seen. Years ago it was easier to accept, to put a positive spin on not getting a part that he wanted. Now, it just hurt.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice the music playing from his Bluetooth earphones interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Blinking in surprise, he pulled over to the side of the road and stopped, unclipping his shoes from the pedals and getting off his bike.

"Hello, Matthew Crawley speaking," he said, talking into the microphone dangling on the cord wrapped around his chin.

"Matthew, hi! It's Lavinia Swire from Sony Pictures. We met at the Four Seasons a couple of days ago," Lavinia said cheerfully.

"Lavinia. Hello," Matthew said, slightly confused. He wasn't expecting a call from the production assistant.

"I just wanted to tell you that one of the producers will be calling you in about twenty minutes. They're a bit busy today. We've got another movie that we're working on in addition to _Shattered_. Anyway, I wanted to give you a bit of a heads-up. You've got a callback for Monday. Thea really liked your performance so they want you to come in and read another scene," Lavinia said.

"That…that's great! Thank you," Matthew said, grinning as he looked around, wondering if it would look strange for a cyclist dressed all in spandex to start jumping up and down and dancing at the side of the road. He almost didn't care how he would look.

"I'm happy for you, Matthew, but just a word of advice. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but I sat in on the meetings after the auditions. They really liked you, but some of them were a bit concerned about whether you could be as angry as the part demands. They loved how you played the hurt lover, but it was a bit one-note in their eyes, a lot of wallowing and feeling sorry for yourself. On Monday, you'll have to be more aggressive, show some authority, some dominance. They don't want this character to be just a cardboard villain, or a sympathy case. The entire point of the movie is that no one character is entirely innocent or guilty in their behaviour, so they want to see more range from you," Lavinia said, speaking quietly.

"Right, right, yeah, that makes sense," Matthew said, nodding and trying to memorize what she said. "I'll…erm…I'll work on that, yeah. Thanks, Lavinia. Thanks a lot, really."

"No problem, Matthew. Good luck. I'll see you on Monday."

Matthew hung up the call, his pulse racing without him even realizing it. He reached down and grabbed his water bottle from the bike, taking a long squirt of his sports drink, then another. Putting the bottle back, he leaned over the handlebars, a wide, toothy grin on his face. After several seconds, he threw his head back, looked up at the blue sky and shouted as loud as he could.

 **The Rex Jazz and Blues Bar, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

"Matthew! What's up, man?"

"Hey, Jack," Matthew said, smiling, touching fists and hugging the musician as he stepped up on to the small stage. "You guys sound great."

"Yeah, yeah, it's been real good so far," Jack agreed, nodding his head. "Crowd is nice, too. Got almost a full house in here, which is cool. You having second thoughts?"

"Definitely," Matthew said, laughing sheepishly. "But, I need the practice. Build up my confidence to perform in front of a crowd and all that, you know."

"Just relax, you'll be all right. I wouldn't put you on with us if I didn't think you could handle it," Jack said, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "You killed it last time, so don't worry. You got this."

Matthew nodded and went over to the side of the stage to pick up a cordless microphone. The band was jamming a mellow tune for the crowd while Jack got ready for the next set. Taking a long sip of water, Matthew turned around and faced the expectant audience. The lights pointed at the stage made it difficult to make out the faces of anyone beyond those standing right at the front, but he knew the small venue was almost at capacity. Most people were still sitting down at their tables, but there was a decent amount surrounding the stage. He put the bottle down and stepped forward, standing by as Jack came to the front to light applause.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Jack said, smiling and nodding to the crowd. "Once again, we are the Jack Ross Project. I am him, Jack Ross, and we are blessed and honoured, as always, to be here at The Rex entertaining all of you beautiful people. Toronto, where you at?"

The crowd cheered heartily, clapping and hollering enthusiastically.

"Is the Six up in here?" Jack asked, waving his hand, asking for noise.

The audience answered gladly and cheered louder.

"We've got a real special guest with us tonight. He's been away for a minute, but some of you more loyal fans may have heard him tear it up with us a few months back. All the way from Manchester, England, he calls the Six home now, he's going to give y'all some absolutely luscious vocals, with some songs that you should all know real well. Give it up for my boy, a good friend of the band, Mr. Matthew Crawley!" Jack announced, waving for the crowd to cheer.

Matthew grinned nervously, a shiver running up his back as he moved to the edge of the stage and nodded, his eyes adjusting to the glare of the lights. The applause was palpable, the noise reverberating off the walls. The small space meant the band was right on top of the crowd, and as Matthew raised the microphone to his mouth, the familiar thrill of live performance coursed through his veins. His eyes lit up, the grin still on his face. Whether he bombed or not, he didn't really care. The rush was enough.

The drums started up first, setting the beat before Jack's guitar and the bass joined in on cue. Matthew closed his eyes briefly, feeling the music all around him. He pursed his lips and hummed a few notes, delighted that he didn't sound completely out of tune right from the off. The rhythm built and at Jack's confident nod, he jumped in right on his mark.

" _We belong together, and you know that I'm right. Why do you play with my heart, why do you play with my mind?"_

 **Ritz Bar, The Ritz-Carlton Hotel, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

Sybil shared a concerned glance with Anna, the two of them looking over at Mary, who was staring at her Martini, seemingly oblivious to all around her. She hadn't spoken much since they'd arrived. In fact, since coming back from set, she'd become more and more subdued. Dinner was delicious and she'd been somewhat normal then, chatting away, if a bit reservedly, but now later on in the evening, her enthusiasm had seemingly disappeared. It couldn't be the setting, or the company. The bar was quite upscale, featured all of their favourite drinks, plenty of attractive eye candy both working behind the bar and sitting at tables around them, and the music was decent. In addition to Anna and Sybil, Mary's friend, Catherine, and four other women from the cast and crew of _Paladin_ had tagged along. They were into their third round of drinks and their second hour of gossip, but Mary didn't seem into it at all.

"Darling," Sybil called, leaning over to talk to her sister. "You all right?"

"Fine," Mary said, giving her a wan smile. "It's just been a long day, is all. I'll be just chipper in a moment."

"Should we go, then?" Anna suggested.

"No," Mary said, raising her Martini to her lips. "Sybil leaves tomorrow. It's Friday night. Let's enjoy it."

They watched her closely as she took a long sip of her drink and went back to staring at her glass.

"All right, let's settle up," Catherine called, waving to one of the servers to come over. "There's one last place I want to hit before we call it a night."

"Where's that?" Sybil asked, trying to sound cheerful in the hopes it would lift Mary's spirits.

"Just a little jazz bar up the street from here," Catherine said. "Not nearly as posh as this place, but one of my favourite bands is playing a set up there. They're locals, mostly, and the drummer is so hot."

The other women laughed at Catherine's antics as Sybil turned back to her sister.

"Have you ever been?" she asked.

Mary shook her head. "She keeps raving about it, but I've never gone with her to see it. Should be fun."

"Yeah, it'll be great. It's always fun to try a new place," Anna said gamely.

Sybil smiled and nodded in agreement. A wave of worry pulsed through her as she watched Mary finish her Martini rather quickly, a bit of a dazed look clouding her sister's face as they rose to leave.

 **The Rex Jazz and Blues Bar, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

 _"Baby, I could never steal you from another. It's such a shame our friendship had to end. Purple rain, purple rain."_

Jack sang the chorus along with the rest of the band, grinning as Matthew held his microphone out to the crowd, his other hand cupping his ear, encouraging them to sing along. The audience roared appreciatively, some waving their arms slowly from side-to-side, others pointing to the ceiling as they repeated the lyrics. The legendary musician Prince had just passed away yesterday, and Jack and the band wanted to do a tribute set tonight, given how influential he had been on their careers and those of so many jazz, R&B and other musicians and artists. He expected that Matthew would sit out the set, or just stand in the background and clap along or something, but when he announced what they were doing, his friend didn't budge. Soon after, he was leading them in spot-on renditions of _Diamonds and Pearls, Let's Go Crazy, 1999_ and most incredibly of all, _Kiss_. It was a side to Matthew that Jack had never seen before – not just the performer, but the maestro, holding everyone's attention and playing to the crowd. It was fantastic to watch, and when Jack announced the iconic final number of _Purple Rain_ , he marvelled as Matthew moved about the stage, bringing the mic to all the different band members and having them sing along with him, involving all of them personally. He had the entire room eating out of his hand, and Jack still couldn't believe it.

" _Only want to see you, only want to see you underneath the purple rain…_ give them some, Jack! _"_ Matthew called, pointing to his friend.

Jack shook his head in disbelief, smiling wide as he began his guitar solo, the crowd growing even louder.

* * *

"Damn, it's absolutely rammed in here," Catherine noted as she stepped into the darkened bar. The crowd was on their feet, clapping and cheering as the band seemed to be reaching the end of a song. The women all filed in, having to stand at the back as there were no free tables left, or anywhere else to go.

"It's _Purple Rain_ ," Sybil said, squeezing Mary's arm. "Aww, that's brilliant!"

Mary nodded, listening as the familiar guitar and drum riffs played while the ending high-pitched 'ooh's' of the song rang out in perfect tune. It was one of Prince's harder songs to perform, and whoever was singing it here wasn't half bad.

"I don't know if we can get any closer," Anna said, raising her voice to be heard over the screams of the crowd.

"Maybe it will thin out a bit once they wrap up," Sybil said. "If not, we'll stay for another couple songs and see what they play, then we can leave."

Mary just nodded, leaning against the back wall, arms crossed in front of her. The buzz of her last Martini was beginning to wear off, and she had no idea when she would be able to get another drink with the place so packed. Truthfully, she wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for Sybil visiting. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her condo and burrow under the covers, but she couldn't stand to not show her sister a good time on her last night in Toronto. She hopped that Sybil and Anna were enjoying themselves. Lord knew that she wasn't.

It was all just so stupid, really. Getting in an argument with Matthew - if their little spat even counted as an argument - wasn't anything to get riled up about days later. They'd had much worse fights, to be sure. Besides, he was right, if she was honest about it. They weren't together. They weren't even friends. Not really. If he didn't want to talk to her about his career, that was his choice, and so be it. It wasn't as though she told him everything that was going on with her, either.

She frowned slightly. Why did he have to be so petulant and stubborn? Didn't he ask her about work? Didn't she answer most of the time? No, she didn't tell him very much, but she was at least polite about it. There was still room in their…arrangement…for basic courtesy, wasn't there? Would it have killed him to give her some insight into his process, his thinking, how he approached it all? He used to tell her things like that all the time back when…

Back when they were together.

She sighed. That was it, wasn't it? He thought she didn't care, that she was just paying him token courtesy and nothing more. In his eyes, she didn't really want to know what was going on with him, because that would be something that someone did who actually cared about him. Someone who cared about Matthew wouldn't just use him and leave, never bothering to spend the night. Someone who cared wouldn't ignore him for weeks on end, only to text him out of the blue and expect him to drop everything to…to service her.

She looked down at her shoes as the song ended and the crowd cheered so loud the room seemed to shake. Well, if he believed she didn't care about him at all, then good. That would make things far simpler. He was finally growing up and understanding that they lived in the real world, not some dream from when they were younger. They had an understanding built on great sex. That was it. Anything else was awkward, and messy, and would just end up blowing up in their faces again. She should feel relieved, even pleased, that he was enforcing the boundaries she had set.

She took out her phone and checked the time, wondering how much longer she'd have to continue this charade before she could reasonably go home.

"Thank you, Toronto, you are beautiful!" the bandleader shouted gleefully from the stage. The crowd began to pull back, some sitting down, others headed to the bar. The wall of people that was once in front of them parted a bit so they could at least see the stage and the band.

"That's Jack Ross," Catherine called out, nodding towards the man standing on stage addressing the crowd. "He's not bad looking, himself."

Anna and Sybil shared an amused smile.

Mary just stayed silent and wished for the minutes to pass.

"Okay, we're just about done here," Jack stated. "We want to thank each and every one of you for coming out and showing The Jack Ross Project so much love. We appreciate all of y'all. Words truly can't express what it means to us to have our hometown care about us so much, support us so much. It really helps keep us going. We've been doing this for seven years now and we got more coming for you so look out for us this summer!"

Mary clapped politely, smiling for the first time in a while. Perhaps she would be given a reprieve even sooner than she expected?

"For our last song, we got a little something special for y'all, and we'll get to it as soon as our guest singer gets back from the washroom," Jack joked. "Apparently _Purple Rain_ had a bit of an unexpected impact on him."

The crowd laughed and cheered.

Mary even laughed at that, nudging Sybil with her elbow.

"Must be performance anxiety," she teased.

"Be nice!" Sybil scolded her, smiling back. "You don't even know who he is!"

"Well, I've got nothing against the man's singing ability. It just seems whoever this guest singer is has a small bladder, is all, or an upset tummy perhaps?"

Anna smiled and shook her head. It was typical Mary to make fun of a complete stranger, but she was at least grateful that she seemed to be feeling a bit more like herself.

"And…here he comes! One more time, Toronto, give it up for Matthew Crawley!" Jack shouted, pointing to the side as a tall, blond haired man bounded up on to the stage and picked up his microphone once again.

Anna blinked in surprise.

Sybil coughed in shock.

Mary's mouth fell open, not a sound came out as she was stunned speechless.

"Thank you," Matthew said, smiling down at the audience. "Sorry about that. I was actually speaking to the proprietor. Jack always stiffs me on my cut, so I wanted to get paid before we finished."

The crowd laughed and clapped at his clever barb.

Sybil smiled and shook her head incredulously.

Mary closed her mouth, her eyes wide as she wondered if Matthew could see them at the back. There were bright lights focused on him, and he seemed to be looking down to avoid the glare.

"Right, well this is actually the first song that I ever performed with Jack and the lads," Matthew explained, a confident smirk on his face, his blue eyes lit up by the lights. "It's not a particular classic, but we like it. If any of you know the words, please feel free to sing along."

Mary's pulse seemed to quicken all of a sudden, her mind reeling as she tried to make sense of the situation. This bar was just up the street from Matthew's building, but she never imagined he would ever come in here, let alone be performing with a jazz and blues band. He could sing, she knew that. They had both taken vocal lessons from when they were children, and he'd done musicals back in England and over here. He was just in the chorus of _Beauty and the Beast_ , and though she'd never bothered to go watch, she assumed he was decent enough. Leading an actual band before a live audience though was something altogether different, and so unlike him. A small bar like this left nowhere for a singer to hide. Every missed note, every catch of your voice would go unforgiven. It took bollocks to get up there and grab a crowd's attention, and judging by the loud screams, Matthew had done just that.

Jack played a few chords on his guitar, slow and smooth, he turned to the drummer, who played a riff, then the entire room, save the instruments, seemed to fall silent as Matthew started to sing.

 _"There goes my baby, ooh girl, look at you. You don't know how good it feels to call you my girl. There goes my baby. Loving everything you do, ooh girl, look at you…"_

"Holy shit!" Sybil blurted out, her hands covering her mouth as she stared in awe.

Mary's heart was hammering in her chest. The rhythm and blues singer Usher was one of her guilty pleasures from when she was a teenager. Matthew always made fun of her for it, saying she was in love with the pop star's abs and that he oozed sex appeal, rather than anything having to do with his actual voice. While the American singer flaunted his muscles often, she loved his dance songs most of all, and he had the talent to belt out some killer ballads, including the one that Matthew was now singing. She always assumed that he just tolerated her playing the songs whenever they were mucking about or driving in the car somewhere, or whatever. Apparently he had paid much closer attention.

 _"I've been waiting all day to wrap my hands around your waist, and kiss your face. Wouldn't trade this feeling for nothing, not even for a minute. And I'll sit here long as it takes to get you all alone, but as soon as you come walking my way, you're gonna hear me say…there goes my baby…"_

Part of her thought she should escape, get out of this bar before he noticed she was there. What would she do if he saw her? God, what would she do if he sang to her? If he hit her with that voice and those blue eyes at the same time she might just swoon, or worse, rush the stage and jump on him right then and there. Despite her fear, she couldn't move, or look away from him. He seemed to have cast some kind of spell. The way he was swaying back and forth, closing his eyes and raising his hand whenever he hit a particularly powerful note, gazing out into the crowd as if he had very, very bad things on his mind, it was all hypnotic, captivating. He owned her, and everyone else in here. God, she didn't want the song to ever end.

And apparently she wasn't the only one.

 _"And girl I feel like it's our first time every time we get together. Baby, loving you feels better than….everything, anything, put it on my heart, you don't need a ring. And I promise our time away won't change my love…"_

The crowd swelled, women all over the room getting up from their tables and heading to the stage. Mary looked on in astonishment as they all danced back and forth, raising their arms in the air to the music, more than a few of them reaching out for Matthew.

She was almost floored when he smiled and leaned over, shaking their hands and nodding to them as he continued singing the chorus. They were pulling at him, yanking on his shirt sleeves, grabbing for his collar, trying to get any piece of him that they could. He kept smiling and moving, not staying in their grasp long enough for it to be dangerous, but not afraid of them either. It was a side of him that Mary had never seen before. He was playing the showman, the seducer, the star, and complete strangers, some who were here with their husbands or boyfriends even, were eating it all up. He could have been singing the phonebook with that voice and he'd have women clamouring for him. It was completely shocking.

 _"There goes my baby, there goes my baby, yeah, yeah…loving everything you do, ooh girl, look at you…"_

He stepped away from his adoring public so that Jack and the bass player could come forward and finish the song with a flourish. Raising his hand and twirling his finger to rouse the already delirious audience, he was in perfect sync with the band as they jammed for a bit before ending the song with a crash of cymbals and guitar chords. The roar that greeted them was thunderously loud.

"That lead singer's not really my type, too basic," Catherine yelled above the din. "But after a performance like that, that voice! Well, let's just say the panties would be coming off."

Mary was glad for the dark shadows at the back of the bar to hide her fierce blush.

"Should we go and say hello?" Anna asked, struggling to be heard.

Mary watched as the crowd did not really disperse in front of them. Matthew was still on stage, smiling and laughing with Jack and the other band members. They were signing autographs, scribbling on napkins, newspapers, ticket stubs, receipts, t-shirts and anything else being handed up to them. Someone launched a pink bra at him. Shaking his head and laughing, he passed it to Jack, and kept on signing and indulging the women surrounding him.

"Let's go," Sybil called, taking Mary's arm and turning her towards the door. "We won't be able to get through that mob."

Catherine had already moved forward, circling around to try and get the attention of her favoured drummer. The other girls were milling about. Anna gave them all a wave goodbye as Sybil led Mary out the door and on to the street. Even while being pulled away, Mary stole a glance back to the stage. Matthew was still the centre of attention, grinning as though he was having the time of his life.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

"Darling? I thought you were coming back to bed?"

Mary looked up from her mug of tea and smiled sadly as Sybil wandered over and sat down on the couch with her. It was Mary's idea that she check out a night early and stay over here. She had planned a night of drinks and fun, then to come back here, change into pyjamas and gossip into the wee hours like they used to back at Downton Abbey when they were younger.

Instead, after both of them had showered and changed, they'd fallen into Mary's bed, exhausted. Minutes later, Mary got up and quietly slipped out to make herself some tea. She had curled up on the sofa, staring off into space, her mind a jumbled mess.

"It's Matthew, isn't it?" Sybil asked quietly.

"No, it's not him." Mary said, rolling her eyes. "It's not only him."

"Well, then, what?" Sybil prompted. "You're still angry about not getting called back for the lead role in _Shattered_?"

"Yes," Mary confirmed. "But that's more a symptom than the actual problem. When I decided to move here, it was all supposed to go so differently. The pilot was supposed to be a hit with the studio, and it was. The first season was supposed to raise my profile, and it did. Being here, rather than back in England, was supposed to give me more opportunities, and it has, but…"

"Just not to the level that you wanted, or expected," Sybil finished.

Mary sighed and eventually nodded, taking a sip of her tea.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Sybil said.

"No, not if you're going to mention Matthew," Mary said dismissively.

"But something happened recently, didn't it? Something happened between the two of you?" Sybil suggested.

Mary nodded slowly. "We got in a fight the other night. It all seemed to be going as per usual, but then I asked him about his audition and tried to engage him in a conversation and he refused. I pressed. He didn't like it. He got mad. I got mad. I left. We haven't spoken since."

"And you haven't seen him since, until tonight," Sybil stated.

Mary nodded.

"When you broke up with him, when you rejected his proposal, I know you felt that you had to because you needed to take this next step in your life on your own," Sybil said carefully. "You felt there was no room for him, for anyone, where you were going. You needed total focus on what you wanted to achieve. I didn't agree with it, but I respected your decision, that you chose to give this everything that you had."

Mary turned and looked at her, swallowing nervously.

"When Matthew came over here, I fully expected the two of you to get together again. I thought, or maybe hoped, that you would see that you didn't need to choose, that you could have your career and him, and he could have the same. This arrangement of yours, it's not at all what I expected, from either of you, but I could understand it in the beginning, sort of. I can't say that I do anymore," Sybil said.

"Spare me, darling, please," Mary said, rolling her eyes. "If it makes you feel any better, he doesn't want anything to do with me at the moment, so we may not even have that anymore."

"I think we both know that isn't true," Sybil retorted.

"Regardless, you saw him tonight," Mary shot back. "He was loving all the attention. He's probably banging one of his groupies right at this moment."

"I don't believe that, and I know you don't either," Sybil scoffed.

Mary grunted and finished her tea, putting the mug on the side table.

"This world that you live in," Sybil continued. "It's so different, even from when you were working back in England. All these people who seem to care so much for you and yet don't seem to know anything about you, besides Anna, of course. I think you realize now that this isn't quite what you thought it would be, and in particular, that you constantly have to be someone else, someone to satisfy your director, or producer, or co-star. Matthew isn't like that. He sees you for who you are, good and bad, and he doesn't judge you the way the rest of your world does. I think you go to him time and again because you don't need to be anyone but yourself when you're with him. You don't need to put on airs or tailor your behaviour to suit. And it scares you to death that you could have something meaningful with him."

"We had something meaningful. It didn't work out," Mary said, shrugging her shoulders. "We aren't the same people anymore."

"What did you think would happen over the long term when you entered into this understanding with Matthew, honestly? You thought you'd meet someone eventually who was better than him and you could let him go then?" Sybil enquired. "He's just a placeholder now, is he?"

"I thought I would be able to set him free! Not because I'd met someone better, but I thought that eventually I'd reach a point where his happiness would mean more to me than my own, and I would let him go and let him be happy with someone else," Mary explained. "When he showed up here, after the break-up, I was shocked. I didn't expect anything from him, but we just kept running into each other, seeing each other, even when we didn't plan to. We were both alone in this strange city and even though we weren't together anymore, spending time together felt…it felt good...and one thing led to another, as they say."

"And now?"

"And now I just can't let him go! I still need him, and it's not just the sex, it's just...being with him...and I don't want to be without him, not yet," Mary said, shaking her head.

"And what makes you think he wants to be without you?" Sybil asked.

"Don't be stupid, Sybil. I broke his heart, several times. He's better off without me. The day he wakes up and realizes he doesn't need what I give him anymore will be the best thing to happen to him, and it might come sooner rather than later," Mary grumbled.

"Do you think he deserves to be happy?" Sybil asked quietly,

"Of course I do," Mary said firmly.

"As do I, but you don't think that you have any part in that," Sybil noted.

"I shouldn't," Mary said softly.

"Well, I don't think it's up to you," Sybil replied.

Mary took a deep breath, then slowly got to her feet.

"Come on, darling, let's get some sleep. I want to have a proper brunch tomorrow before you leave," Mary said, taking Sybil's hand and helping her up.

Sybil followed Mary back to bed, hoping that her sister could forget about tonight long enough to get some rest.

* * *

 **Song Credits (in order of appearance):**

 **End of the Road -** Boyz II Men, (1992), LaFace/Arista, Motown

 **Purple Rain -** Prince, (1984), Warner Bros.

 **There Goes My Baby -** Usher, (2010), LaFace


	4. Chapter 4

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

"And now?"

"And now I just can't let him go! I still need him, and it's not just the sex, it's just...being with him...and I don't want to be without him, not yet," Mary said, shaking her head.

"And what makes you think he wants to be without you?" Sybil asked.

"Don't be stupid, Sybil. I broke his heart, several times. He's better off without me. The day he wakes up and realizes he doesn't need what I give him anymore will be the best thing to happen to him, and it might come sooner rather than later," Mary grumbled.

"Do you think he deserves to be happy?" Sybil asked quietly,

"Of course I do," Mary said firmly.

"As do I, but you don't think that you have any part in that," Sybil noted.

"I shouldn't," Mary said softly.

"Well, I don't think it's up to you," Sybil replied.

Mary took a deep breath, then slowly got to her feet.

"Come on, darling, let's get some sleep. I want to have a proper brunch tomorrow before you leave," Mary said, taking Sybil's hand and helping her up.

Sybil followed Mary back to bed, hoping that her sister could forget about tonight long enough to get some rest.

 **Chapter 4:**

 **Laurentian Ballroom, Four Seasons Hotel, Yorkville, Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

Matthew watched the digital numbers change as the elevator rose to the sixth floor. With fewer candidates receiving a callback, he was given an assigned time slot and none of the other actors would be around. He wouldn't have to worry about seeing any of his competitors. What was more, he also wouldn't run into anyone vying for the other roles, except for maybe someone trying for the male lead, who might read with him.

That was a relief.

It had been mere days since he last saw Mary, less than a week. They usually went a week or two without seeing each other, based on how busy she was, so going days without word from her was normal. But then, they usually didn't end their rendezvous with a fight, so who was to say what their normal was anymore?

The moment she walked out on him in anger, he had regretted his furious words. He didn't want to argue with her, not when the time they had together was so limited, but that was part of the problem. His frustration over their situation, their so-called arrangement, had been festering for months now, always easily cast aside when she was in his arms and in his bed, but brought back full force the moment he saw she was preparing to leave him again. Usually he could hold it in until she was gone, but this last time her casual attempt at conversation was too much for him. Even now, he frowned at the memory. How dare she try and add gloss to what they were doing with a pale effort at concern over his career? That was the type of gesture that a friend made, or a girlfriend, not a lover, and certainly not…whatever it was they were to each other now. She'd given up any right to be concerned about him the moment she rejected his proposal on that sunny day in Yorkshire all those years ago.

It wasn't that they didn't talk, or couldn't talk. They did. They made idle chat, usually before they moved on to the more passionate part of their encounters. They had history. They still shared connections – Anna and Alex, Sybil and Tom, Edith, his mother, her parents and Violet – it wasn't as if they were completely out of each other's lives. But Mary had never paid much attention to his career since the breakup, hadn't even gone to see him in _Beauty and the Beast_ , or any of the other small projects he'd done since moving to Toronto. She had set the limits as to what their relationship was now. It wasn't for her to change that just because she felt like appearing kind and nice all of a sudden.

He sighed as the elevator doors opened. The truth of it was that he hadn't been prepared for her concern, her apparent caring. To believe that she cared for him, or about anything going on in his life was to lead him down a road that could only result in his ruin, and why would he want to go there again?

"Matthew! Hi!"

He blinked as he looked up and quickly emerged from his wallowing at the sound of a woman's voice.

"Lavinia, hi," he said, giving her a kind smile. She motioned towards the waiting room and he followed.

"I like your jeans," she said, nodding her head.

"Thanks," he replied. "Just wore what was comfortable."

"You've got a few minutes before you need to go in," she said crisply. "There's some drinks and snacks in there, and the room's yours for now, so you can get some last second practice in, or meditate, or whatever it is you do to prepare. I'll come back and fetch you at 11 sharp. It's the same panel as before, with one of the executive producers joining in."

"Right," he mumbled, processing everything she'd said. "Will I be reading with any of the people up for the other roles?"

 _Please say no_ , he silently wished.

"No, they wanted to just get a sense of you on your own, because they haven't decided on anyone else yet for any of the four major parts," she advised. "Remember what I said – your scene today is the confrontation with David, so you need to be strong. They want to see that you can hold your own in a battle of wills."

"Strong. Right. Got it. Thanks again, Lavinia," he said, nodding to her as they stopped at the doorway to the waiting room.

"Good luck, Matthew," she replied, smiling at him before walking away.

He watched her leave, noticing for the first time her svelte figure and her dress that stopped just above her knees. She had pale skin that contrasted well with her ginger hair, which she wore down today, as opposed to up when he first met her. Finally turning away from her, he went into the waiting room and got a bottle of water from the refreshments table, going over to the window and staring down at the courtyard below.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

"How could you? How _could_ you? _How_ could you?! _How could_ you!" Mary recited from memory, looking into the mirror and practising her lines. She tried different facial expressions, putting emphasis on different parts of the dialogue and using different accents. As she worked away, a pang of annoyance bubbled in the pit of her stomach. She shouldn't be reading these lines. She shouldn't be auditioning for this supporting role. She wasn't meant to be Christina. She was supposed to be Sidney. She was supposed to be the lead.

Frowning at her reflection, she turned away and walked over to the dining table, double checking that she had everything she needed. Anna had spread out the items for her to approve before they were packed up. Most of it went into Anna's bag, with a few of the more critical items for Mary's. It was a ritual perfected over years of auditions and callbacks, and ensured she was never caught out in any situation. Wallet, phone, phone charger, spare battery, apartment key, compact, eye liner, foundation, lipstick, lip gloss, sunscreen, moisturizer, hand soap, energy bars, bottle of water, two copies of the script, sticky tabs, pens, and highlighters. Looking over it all helped calm her down, put her in the right frame of mind to focus on the job and the task at hand. So she wasn't going to be the lead. So be it. Rather than be the star, she would dazzle as the supporting actress and steal the show instead.

"That's good," she said, nodding her head and turning away to go back to the mirror. Anna swooped in and loaded the two Hermès bags accordingly.

Mary looked at her reflection in the mirror, turning side-to-side to make sure her look was perfect. Hair curled in loose waves, casual, but refined. Just a touch of makeup, enough to accent the sharp lines of her face and her pale skin, but still look natural. Long sleeved vee-neck shirt, tight enough to show off her breasts but without revealing any cleavage. Black trousers that framed her ass and accented her long legs. Navy flats, so she wouldn't appear too tall. She took a deep breath, satisfied finally with all of her preparation.

"The car's downstairs," Anna announced.

Mary steeled her gaze and nodded to herself, then turned and headed for the door.

 **Laurentian Ballroom, Four Seasons Hotel, Yorkville, Toronto, Canada, April 2016**

"I really wanted to avoid this, but it seems that I can't. How much will it take for you to forget you ever met her?"

Matthew's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in an indignant frown. He turned his head slightly, keeping his eyes on the producer before speaking.

"You think you can buy me off?" he asked incredulously. "You think that money will make me give her up?"

"Don't be so dramatic and give me some tale of star-crossed love. I just ate lunch."

"You see? That's why you're in this mess, why we're all in this mess. If you spent as much time and effort on making your wife happy as you do acting all smug and being so full of yourself, then I would never have stood a chance," Matthew snarled.

"You don't stand a chance against me! Christina may be foolish, but she's not dumb. She'll never leave me. She likes the money, the lifestyle, the safety and security that I provide. You honestly think she'll throw all of that away for you? You're nothing. You're not her future. You're just some guy who fucked her, that's it."

"That might have been who I was the first time, but what about all the times after that?" Matthew asked coldly.

"Shut your mouth. We're done here. A hundred grand, and I want you out of the city by tonight. If I so much as see you on the street again, God help me."

"I don't think God's paying much attention to you these days, after all you've done. Keep your fucking money. She'll decide who she wants, and if she really can't leave you after what you've put her through, then you've ruined her even more than I thought. And I promise, if you ever see me again, it won't be because I sought you out, you can be sure about that."

Matthew shook his head, trying to look as menacing as he could. He had practised this last part in numerous ways, throwing in a grunt, or a sneer, even wagging his finger. Now playing it out before the panel, he decided to go with a more subtle approach, and prayed that it would work.

"Oh, well done!" Thea cheered, clapping her hands. "That was great, Matthew! Wow, you've gotten so much better since London."

He relaxed his rigid posture and smiled, nodding to her in thanks.

"All right, that was good, really good," the producer said, nodding along with Thea. "Okay, so let me go over some details for you, the timing we're looking at for making a decision, so you know what to expect…"

Matthew listened attentively, his heart beating fast. He felt lightheaded, as though he was about to float off the floor and up to the ceiling. He had no clue if the producer was giving him this information just to be nice, or because he actually had a legitimate shot at getting the part, but it almost didn't matter. For now, he knew he had done all he could, and relief turned to satisfaction, turned to pride, and finally became elation. In this moment, he was an actor, up for the biggest role of his life, and he was in with a legitimate shot.

 **The Theater at Madison Square Garden, Manhattan, New York City, USA, May 2016**

The limo sat parked on West 31st Street, the air conditioning cranked up as its occupants waited patiently. A mob of photographers and reporters were camped out in front of the barriers lining the red carpet arrivals area a block away, a procession of actors, directors and producers slowly winding their way along the queue, smiling, laughing and answering the same questions over and over, moseying along like prized cattle.

Anna glanced down at her phone, then back out the tinted windows to the scene down the street. There was a carefully choreographed process to when Mary and Henry would walk the red carpet. The network wanted to clear the way for the important people from their other shows to pass through, then give their most famous couple the limelight all to themselves. As usual, the whole thing was running late, but that didn't matter. They weren't going to start the show inside until Mary and Henry came through.

"Try and at least get me third billing, before the movie title, not after," Mary said, rolling her eyes as she spoke to her Aunt Rosmaund on the phone. They had spent most of the morning with her stylist and hair and makeup team, preparing just the right look for this afternoon. It wasn't an entirely glamorous event, not like an awards show, but it was far more important.

The three months of television "upfronts" were their chance to dazzle ad buyers and investors. The major players of all the networks, including actors, news anchors, celebrities and executives, were trotted out to shake hands, entertain the crowds and drum up interest and money. Fans used it as a chance to catch a glimpse of their favourites, and the networks obliged to create buzz. Mary and Henry had been at it for years now. _Paladin_ was one of the most popular shows on the network, but also one of its most expensive, and impressing the buyers was important to sustaining their longevity going forward.

Accordingly, Mary's look wasn't full-on formal, but couldn't be completely casual, either. In the end, they settled on a sleeveless floral top that had nude mesh cutouts to show the hint of her collarbone, back, side and midriff. They paired it with a playful green skirt that went past her knees so she could still cross her legs when she was on stage without flashing the audience. Gold rings, earrings and a matching cuff around her forearm completed the modern, summery look. Henry was wearing a standard designer suit, so she would stand out even more, despite having to be on his arm.

Lady Rosamund had called when they left the hotel and Mary had been on the phone ever since. What ought to have been wonderful news – that she got the part of Christina in _Shattered_ – was instead met with muted acknowledgment. Anna knew that Mary was pleased, but talk had soon turned to business, and she could tell that Mary was growing more and more annoyed. Rick Yune was cast as David, the cheating husband, and Natalie Dormer was playing Sidney, the mistress. Mary's profile was arguably higher than both of theirs, and yet she was playing the supporting role, taking a backseat, in her eyes. The part of Nico, the lover who would have the most screen time opposite Mary, was yet to be decided.

"If we're going to be filming in Toronto at Pinewood, try and see that I can use my same trailer. That way I won't have to move anything, or at least have them transport it to whatever location we'll be using," Mary continued, glancing idly at her manicured nails as they continued to wait.

"You're up," Anna announced, looking out the window as security guards began gathering near Henry's limo parked just ahead.

"I've got to go. We'll talk later," Mary said crisply, hanging up the call and putting her phone away in her clutch. She sighed and took one last sip of water before smoothing out her skirt.

"All right?" Anna asked.

"As much as can be expected," Mary said plainly, not looking up.

"Well, I for one am glad you got the part, and I know Alex will be thrilled as well that we're staying in Toronto," Anna offered cheerfully.

Mary looked up and smiled, reaching over and squeezing Anna's hand. "Oh, Anna, what ever would I do without you? Probably drown in my own misery."

Anna laughed and squeezed back before releasing her. "Anyway, put that aside for now and let's focus on this afternoon and tonight. You've got to be brilliant. You're the star of the network, after all."

"That's me, the big star. Out to dazzle all the buyers and make them spend money," Mary deadpanned, shaking her head ruefully. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and nodded, signalling Anna that she was ready to go.

When they emerged from the limo, the security guards motioned for them to come forward. Anna lingered in the background as Mary came to Henry's side. He turned and whispered something in her ear, giving her a devilish smile. She ignored him, putting a brilliant grin on her face and taking his arm. They walked in step towards the red carpet, the manoeuvre so familiar to them by now that they could do it with their eyes closed.

The fans across the street exploded in cheers as the couple came into view. Mary gave them a friendly wave with her free hand, holding on to Henry's arm all the while. She winked and laughed and pointed to homemade signs and official posters from the show with her face on them. They paused on the indicated mark and smiled for the photographers, turning this way and that, always in perfect sync. Henry's hand moved across her waist and pulled her closer. She dutifully turned her body towards his. Right on cue, they looked at each other and laughed, whispering and smiling, appearing to all the world as though they were completely besotted. At one point while Mary looked out to the paparazzi with her chin raised and a polite smile on her face, Henry looked down at the cutout above her breast and grinned before lifting his head and whispering in her ear.

"Do you see, Mary? They love us together. Just imagine how mad they would go if we confirmed we were a couple? The worldwide attention would be massive. You wouldn't have to settle for a bit part in a movie ever again," he said smoothly.

She kept smiling, the urge to slap him for his insolent words simmering in her chest. Eventually she took his hand and they were led over to the gauntlet of reporters to begin the small interviews before they went inside for the official upfront presentation.

"And look who we have here! It's Mary Crawley and Henry Talbot, Empress Jade and Emperor Frederick to all you _Paladin_ fans out there! Welcome back to New York, guys! How are you?" the entertainment reporter gushed.

"Yes, yes, hello! So good to see you again! It's been what, a year, now?" Mary said eagerly, nodding her head and turning to share a well-timed laugh with Henry. "We're so happy to be here in front of all these amazing fans. We love New York, we don't get down here nearly enough."

She turned and smiled at Henry, giving him her full attention as he looked back at her with a smile.

"That's right, darling," he said. "We need to make more of an effort to come down here and spend more time in the city with all these beautiful people."

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, May 2016**

 _"Actually, Henry helped me pick out this skirt. It was down to blue or green and he said 'the green one',"_ Mary said, laughing and slapping Henry lightly on the chest.

 _"To be honest, I was so focused on her gorgeous top that it was hard to think about anything else. I think she had to ask me about half a dozen times!"_ Henry added, laughing freely.

Matthew frowned and shook his head, staring in annoyance at the livestream playing on his television of Mary's arrival at the upfront presentation. She looked amazing, and though he knew that most of her poses with Henry and answers to the same superficial questions were manufactured and pre-planned, that did not make them any less grating.

 _"Now we've heard rumours that this upcoming season is the hottest yet! What can you tell us? Millions of people are dying to know just how steamy it gets between the two of you!"_ yet another reporter in the long line of interviewers asked.

 _"If only we could tell you,"_ Mary said, pretending to be upset. _"I so wish that we could!"_

 _"Sadly, we're sworn to secrecy,"_ Henry chimed in, his arm still around Mary's waist.

 _"What we can say is that Jade and Frederick really take the next step in their relationship this season,"_ Mary revealed. _"They've sort of been through all the build-up and the will they/won't they is kind of past them now. They're not officially a couple, but they act like it sometimes…"_

 _"Especially when they're alone, which is rather often,"_ Henry said, chuckling smugly.

 _"So, we're just really excited for everyone to see it finally. We've almost wrapped shooting, we've only got another week or so to go, and we feel just as anxious as the fans do. We want everyone to see what we've all worked so hard to put together, and we hope everyone enjoys it,"_ Mary finished diplomatically.

 _"Okay, so Henry, that all sounds positive for your character, but you've still got rivals this season. Can you at least tell us if Frederick finally gets the girl in the end?"_ the reporter asked.

They all laughed at that. Mary smiled at Henry and shook her head as if to try and stop him from answering.

 _"I don't think I'm allowed to answer that one,"_ Henry said, smiling at Mary cheekily. _"I can say that he gets the girl, but whether he is able to keep her through to the end of the season, you'll just have to wait and see."_

"You'll just have to wait and see, ho ho ho! Fucking bastard," Matthew groaned, getting up from the couch and going over to the kitchen to get a drink. He didn't know why Henry bothered him so much. He had only met the man a couple times years ago back in London at various industry parties, and there was nothing particularly wrong with him then. Henry knew Mary before through mutual theatre friends. Since they both came over to North America and started working together on the show, the gossip websites and fan blogs constantly speculated as to what their real relationship was. Matthew didn't pay attention to any of that noise, for the most part, but he could tell that Henry reveled in it, with his coy answers and suggestive smirks. That was probably why Matthew didn't like him - he was just so damn smug all the time.

Matthew also didn't know why he was even watching the upfront presentation. He barely followed _Paladin_ , and when he did, he would binge all the episodes over a couple of days and basically skip to Mary's scenes. It was a good show, with a blend of modern and medieval elements, and numerous twists and turns. Mary was outstanding as Jade, but Matthew couldn't bring himself to watch faithfully each week. It was that way with a lot of things involving her. He followed all of her social media accounts, but didn't check them very often. He never watched when she was on an awards show, and seldom saw her interviews on talk shows and such. There was something off-putting about it all. He knew the real Mary, or at least, he liked to think that he did. The promotional version of Mary was gorgeous to look at, but it wasn't really her, and he didn't have much time for that version, to be honest.

He came back into the living room and stood in front of the couch. On the screen, Mary was seated on stage with Henry and the producers of the show, getting ready to do a panel discussion on the new upcoming season. Matthew could almost predict how these things would go. There would be generic statements and questions on what fans could expect, how popular the show was, how grateful everyone was for the interest, and how this was going to be the best season yet. The moderator would ask about the sex scenes, and whether anyone was going to die this season, and Mary and Henry would laugh and tease and give answers that could be interpreted in numerous ways, and the Twitterverse and blogosphere would explode. Ad buyers were mostly young, single, urban professionals. They ate up gossip and the upfronts were an excuse to get them all together, impress them with beautiful people and parties, so that they would go back to their bosses and rave about how great Network X or Y was and why their clients should purchase advertising time with a particular show. The contrived and manipulative air about the entire exercise made Matthew's stomach turn.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Matthew muttered to himself as he watched Mary speak animatedly about the growth of her character this season.

His phone rang and he picked it up and walked over to the window, not recognizing the number on his call display.

"Hello," he said.

"Matthew, hi. It's Thea," Thea said.

"Thea! Hi!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. He quickly went into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

"Hope I'm not interrupting you. I just wanted to call and talk to you about your auditions," she said.

"Sure, sure, thanks for thinking of me," he replied, cringing at the sound of his voice. He sat down on the bed and tried to compose himself.

"Matthew, I have to tell you that I was really impressed by you. We all were. When I think about when I last directed you back in London, well, it's like you're a different actor now. I was so happy to see you and so pleased to see how much you've grown. You should be really proud," she continued.

"Thanks," he said, closing his eyes and bracing himself. There was a 'but' lingering in the air. _"But you still haven't done a damn thing in film, especially in North America, so we're going to go with so-and-so instead. Thanks for coming out."_

"My pleasure. It will also be my pleasure to help you get to the next level. I really think you've got a great future ahead of you Matthew, and hopefully over the next few months we can get the very best out of you," she said.

His eyes shot open, his pulse jumping. "I…I hope so, too?"

"Welcome aboard, Matthew," she said cheerfully. "The producers will be in touch to get you all set up. We'll get everyone together in a week, or so, and our first day on set is in June. We want to get moving right away because we've got quite a short time frame to get this done and out in time for middle of next year. It'll be a lot of long days, even long weeks, but I know you can handle it, and I think it'll be fun."

"Yeah…yeah…definitely," he said, completely at a loss.

"All right, then, well, congratulations Matthew," she finished. "You're my Nico. Looking forward to working with you again."

"Thanks! Thank you, Thea. Me too, me too. Cheers! Bye," he babbled, quickly hanging up the phone and tossing it on to his bed.

"Yeaahhh! Woohoo!" he screamed, dropping to his knees and throwing his fists in the air. He felt he was hyperventilating, or having a heart attack, or both, and it felt glorious.

He ran out into the living room and did a victory lap around his apartment, running and skipping around, pumping his fist, laughing gleefully. On the television screen, Henry was making some off-colour joke about his modesty patch and how many of the crew had seen the birthmark on his butt. Matthew didn't bother paying attention. He wondered if he should call his mother, call Alex, whether he should post something to Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, whether he should go out and tell the security guard in the lobby or the convenience store owner his incredible news. He couldn't remember feeling more elated about something finally going right in his career.

He almost slipped and fell on the floor as he stopped running around at the sound of a knock at his door. Calming himself momentarily, he went over and opened it.

"Matthew, hi," Lavinia said, smiling at him.

"Lavinia!" he said in surprise.

"I hope you don't mind. I got your address from your resumé," she admitted. "I found out about your good news, of course, and, well, I never, ever do this, but I'm meeting friends of mine for a drink near here and I was wondering if you wanted to come along and celebrate?"

He just stared at her for several seconds, dumbfounded at how she was standing before him. Weighing what she'd said, the high of triumph came flooding back at her mention of him winning the role in _Shattered_ , and he couldn't think of any reason not to celebrate.

"Why not?" he said cheerfully. "Yeah, let's go!"

"Great," she said, grinning happily as he went to grab his phone and his keys.

 **Terminal 5, Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan, New York City, USA, May 2016**

"I want to know where all my Barbz at? Where Team Minaj at? I know there's some sexy ladies in here representing for New York! Where they at? Stand up, stand up, let me see you! I want all my ladies to get wild, get loud and sing this next song with me! Let's go!"

The crowd cheered loudly as star female rapper Nicki Minaj paraded around the stage, calling out to them, throwing her hands in the air and gesturing for more noise. The young ad executives who dominated the party, with their designer suits and cleavage baring dresses and high heels waved and shouted in reply. The champagne and alcohol flowed freely as servers moved about the room, the after party in full roar with midnight approaching.

 _"This one is for the boys with the booming system, top down, AC with the cooling system…"_ Nicki rapped, the opening verse from _Super Bass_ moving most of the women in the vast club to jump and sing along.

Anna looked over at Mary and grinned. Mary clinked glasses with her and took a long drink of her vodka and tonic, then lifted her arms and rhymed along to the words. This song, from 2010, was one of their anthems during the early days in Toronto, when it was just the two of them exploring a new city, beginning an adventure that was still going six years on. Their first trip to New York was back during filming for the first series, when very little was known about _Paladin_ and the two English actors who were playing its leads. They came here for their first upfronts overwhelmed and unsure about what they were doing or how they should behave, and now, here they were, belles of the ball.

Mary finished her drink and set it down on the table behind her. They were in a cordoned off VIP section, elevated and off to the side, still with a full view of the stage, but out of the reach of the drunken masses below. From the beginning of the concert, Mary and Anna had gotten up and wandered over near the velvet ropes to get a better view and dance. The day was finally over, their role in the upfronts finished, and they could let loose a little before heading back to Toronto the next day.

Anna kept glancing down at her phone, then back at the show. It was at times like these that her job seemed the most fun. It was rewarding to see Mary succeed, and she liked to think that she played a small part in the victories, though at the same time, she probably took Mary's defeats a bit too personally as well. Today though, had been a win. Mary got the part in _Shattered_ , even if it wasn't the one she really wanted. She had done a masterful job at the upfront presentation, looking gorgeous and acting flirty, smart, knowledgeable and mysterious all in turn. She made the fans, the buyers, the executives and everyone watching believe that she truly loved playing Jade and loved her show, and that it was worth investing in – whether it be their time, their loyalty, or their money. The after party was a celebration of all they'd accomplished today, and an affirmation that they were moving in the right direction. It wasn't the Oscars or the Golden Globes, but it still was a form of recognition – that the network valued Mary enough to make her one of the faces of their brand. She and Mary spent a lot of time - probably too much - attending parties and events where not much happened. This one was far sweeter as after what they'd been through recently, they earned the right to let loose a little.

Anna's phone lit up and she looked down at the incoming message. Grinning widely, she turned and waved it at Mary.

Mary smiled and rolled her eyes playfully. She leaned over and kissed Anna on the cheek.

"Off you go. I'll see you back at the hotel. Don't stay out too late," Mary warned.

"Same to you," Anna retorted, kissing her back and heading off to the other side of the VIP section.

Mary turned back to the concert and did a little dance on the spot, swaying her hips in time to the beat. She was quite drunk, the tension and the weight of the past few weeks catching up to her. She was happy, deep down, to have gotten the role in _Shattered_ , and she was pleased with how well she had done at the upfront presentation earlier, but there was still something missing. She still felt unfulfilled with it all, for some reason. When they reached the after party, she'd had Anna fetch drinks right away. After her first Grey Goose and tonic, she relaxed a bit and forgot some of her concerns. She was in New York, her career was trending up and life was good, so she was going to party tonight.

She had spoken to Sybil and Tom briefly earlier in the morning from the hotel. It was unfortunate that she didn't have time to go see them in Brooklyn, but she was here for work and time was precious. They understood, being swamped themselves, Sybil with her patients and Tom covering the Hillary Clinton campaign ahead of the Presidential primary in Washington state next week. Mary was often flying in and out of the city with a call or text being all she could manage. Now that she knew she would be in Toronto filming through the summer, she made them promise to come up for a proper visit.

 _"Shout out to my haters, sorry that you couldn't faze me. Ain't being cocky, we just vindicated, best believe that when we're done, this moment will be syndicated. I don't know. This night just remind me of everything they deprived me of. Put ya drinks up, it's a celebration every time we link up. We done did everything they can think of…"_ Nicki Minaj shouted on stage, the crowd pumping their fists to _Moment 4 Life_.

Mary closed her eyes and bobbed her head, shouting out the last line of the verse, not caring who heard her. "Greatness is what we on the brink of!"

* * *

Anna shimmied past the drunken revellers, avoiding spilled drinks, women twerking to the music and men doing a poor job of imitating them. Glancing around, she finally spied a corner booth where a tall man with short black hair was seated alone, his hazel eyes seeming to glow in the strobe lights flashing all around the club. He wore a tailored suit, his collar still crisp despite the heat inside the club, and diamond cufflinks gleamed on his wrists. Two Martini glasses were placed on the table. As she approached, his head turned and he caught her eyes, his lips curling into a pleased smirk.

"Miss Smith," he said, looking up at her. "Care to join me?"

"I would, thank you," she replied. Despite the rest of the booth being empty, she slid over and sat in his lap, his one arm going around her waist, hers moving across his shoulders. They each took up a Martini and clinked glasses, watching each other as they took a long sip before setting their glasses back down. He reached over with his free hand and linked his fingers with hers, his thumb playing with her wedding band and diamond engagement ring.

"How was your day, sir?" she asked, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "See anything you wanted to buy?"

"There were a few possibilities," Alex replied easily, the bass from the concert thumping all around them. "I haven't quite decided yet. Do you have any recommendations?"

"Well, it so happens that I work for one of the stars of _Paladin_ ," she said. "The ratings are quite good in key demographics. I'm sure you would find value there."

" _Paladin_ , you say? Well, that's certainly a popular show, but their rates are quite high. I don't know if I would be getting the best return for my clients' money."

"Well, I disagree. Is there anything that I can do to convince you?" she asked, smiling at him innocently as she caressed his fingers.

"I might be able to come up with something, depending on just how committed you are to getting me on your side," he noted, staring at her intently.

"Well, if you don't think that I'm capable of convincing you, then maybe I should go and find one of the network executives for you to deal with?" she joked.

"Don't you dare," he warned, kissing her lightly.

She laughed and kissed him back, shifting in his lap teasingly. "Thanks for coming. I know you hate these things."

"I hate these things when you aren't at them with me," he corrected her, kissing her again. "How did it go today? How was Mary?"

"She did great," she said, nodding her head. "She's over there enjoying the concert. I'll wake her in the morning for breakfast before we head out."

"You're not tucking her in tonight?" he asked with mock surprise.

"No," she said, looking at him pointedly. "I have someone far more demanding to put to bed tonight."

"How nice," he said, laughing and kissing her quickly. "So, let's go."

"Hang on," she said, smiling at him and patting his cheek. "I want to dance a bit first."

"All right, but if Nicki Minaj sees my moves and pulls me up onstage, it's not my fault," he said, helping her up from the booth.

"Yeah, cause that's going to happen," she said, taking his hand and leading him over to a free spot near the railing. He placed his hands on her hips and held her from behind as they danced together, the music and the cheers of the crowd washing over them.

* * *

Mary laughed as she put another empty glass down on the table. She shouted and clapped, cheering as Nicki Minaj took a bow and thanked the crowd and acknowledged the network for having her perform at the after party. With the concert over, the venue converted back into a normal dance club, with deep bass and house music filling the space. Most people lingered on, kept dancing or went for refills at the bar, the party still having hours to go before it finished. Some of the older set made their way to the exit, the concert being the only reason they stuck it out for so long.

"That was fun."

Mary turned and smiled as Henry came to her side. He handed her a glass with a small amount of amber liquid with a lime wedge stuck to the rim. She took it and sniffed it, crinkling her nose and looking at him questioningly.

"Cuervo 1800 Tequila," Henry declared, raising his own glass to her. "One of the most expensive drinks in the world, and entirely worth it, if I do say so myself. I was shocked they had it in stock here, but when I found out they did, I had to have some."

"And you felt compelled to order one for me, as well?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him.

"Well, gentlemen don't drink tequila alone," he said, smirking at her. "Besides, you have Anna to get you home safely, so where's the harm?"

"Actually, she's gone off to enjoy herself," she replied, swirling the drink around in the glass a bit. "I gave her the rest of the night off."

"How generous of you," Henry said, laughing at his own joke. "Well, no worry. I'll get back to your hotel. Cheers."

He held his glass out to her.

She looked at his glass, then back at hers, then up at his confident stare.

"Why not?" she said finally, clinking glasses with him and taking a sip.

 **Handlebar, Kensington Market, Downtown Toronto, Canada, May 2016**

"Here you go, Matthew. It's an amber ale from a local brewery here. See what you think," Lavinia's friend explained, handing Matthew a pint glass.

"Thanks," Matthew replied, raising his glass to the rest of the crowd. He took a sip and smacked his lips, savouring the taste before nodding his head. "That's not bad."

Lavinia smiled from her seat next to him on the couch. A DJ was playing a mix of rock and electronica, and the vibe in the small bar was very mellow and comfortable. Lavinia's friends, none of whom were in the entertainment business, refreshingly, were seated around them on couches and chairs, drinking beer and jumping in and out of each other's conversations. He couldn't remember all of their names, but they were an easy going group. It was a welcome change to hang out with a fun group after spending the past while either on his own practising for his auditions, or surrounded by actors and industry people.

"I hope we aren't boring you," she said. "I wasn't quite sure if it was a good idea to even see if you wanted to come out with us. I thought you might be celebrating with your friends."

"I'm glad you did," he said, nodding his head. "Most of my friends don't live in the city. They were here for a show and now that it's over, they've all gone on to other things or moved back home."

"Ah, yes, the actor's life can be rather nomadic sometimes," she said, nodding in understanding.

"What about you? What brought you here and how did you meet this group of decidedly non-British friends?" he asked.

She laughed and shook her head. "We all found our way here somehow or another. I met Carol in New York, and she introduced me to most of the rest. There's a few locals among them, but Toronto has a healthy amount of ex pats from other places. I don't actually live here, myself. I just came in for the auditions, but I'll be here over the summer for the shoot. I've been here plenty. We film a lot of projects here."

"I was sort of hoping we'd be going somewhere exotic to shoot, but I guess it's convenient to be able to stay in the city for the summer," he noted.

"The facilities here are excellent, and the crew are some of the best in the world," she said. "With Pinewood, we can literally turn the soundstages into anywhere we want. We've got shows filming here set in France, Scotland, New York. You wouldn't know the difference."

"As long as you keep the CN Tower out of any background shots," he joked.

"Yes, exactly," she laughed. "It does get a bit frantic when we're trying to drive the Batmobile through the streets of Gotham and there's a Tim Hortons or a Canadian flag that finds its way into the shot."

He laughed along with her and took another sip.

"Anyway, I'm so happy for you, Matthew, truly. I love seeing up and coming actors get a break, and I think this could be a real opportunity for you," she continued.

"Here's hoping," he said. "It'll be great to work with Thea again. I haven't seen her in years."

"She mentioned that. She's happy for you," she confirmed. "I think you'll really get along with the rest of the cast. Natalie Dormer's English, of course, so that will help, and Rick Yune's great, a real professional. And of course, there's Mary Crawley. She's brilliant."

"Who now?" he blurted out, looking at Lavinia strangely. "Mary Crawley, you said?"

"Yes," she replied, curious as to his reaction. "Mary Crawley is playing Christina. One of the producers thought the two of you were related, but I told him that was a rather stupid thing to assume. Crawley's not an uncommon English family name, is it?"

"No, no it's not," he agreed, staring at his drink. In his excitement over being told he won the part, he hadn't even thought to ask who any of the other actors were in the cast. He didn't know what to think or feel about the idea that he would not only be acting in the same film as Mary, but he would be playing the man who lured her character to have an affair. She had told him she was going for the role of Sidney, the mistress. Why was she cast as the wife, Christina, instead?

"We'll be filling out the rest of the cast over the next week or so and be ready come June. I think it'll be really incredible, a true character-drive piece. It's so nice to have one of those. My last three films were all superhero movies. This is going to be an absolutely unforgettable experience," she said pleasantly.

"I know I won't soon forget it, for certain," he said, taking out his phone and texting Alex.

 **Gansevoort Park Avenue Hotel, Flatiron District, Manhattan, New York City, USA, May 2016**

Mary couldn't stop laughing, it seemed. She would compose herself for a few minutes, a silly grin on her face, then she would burst out into giggles over the most innocuous thing. She laughed when Henry refilled her glass with the expensive tequila – Cuervo something or other. She laughed when she finished it before he did. She laughed when he suggested they leave shortly afterward. She laughed as she leaned into him and stumbled into the limo, and she was laughing again now as he kissed her hand and the inside of her wrist, her vision filled with flashing lights as she looked out the window at evening Manhattan crawling by.

"I do believe that I'm quite tipsy, Henry," she said, laughing again. "It is rather gallant of you to escort me to the hotel in such a state."

"It is my privilege, my Lady," he said thickly, leaning over and kissing her neck lightly. "Why don't you give me your key? It will save us the hassle of fishing for it later."

She tossed her clutch at him lazily, continuing to stare out the window as he opened it and retrieved her hotel room key. Putting the clutch aside, he took her hand once again and rubbed her palm and wrist with his fingers, looking at her intently.

"Bright lights, big city," she whispered, gazing at the towering skyscrapers above. She spotted a few landmarks, then gave up after a while. New York had so many iconic buildings that one seemed to bleed into another. It was obvious enough they were in Manhattan by all of the office buildings and condo towers that surrounded them.

"Beautiful woman," he said, kissing her hand once more.

She turned her head and looked at him finally, smiling at his handsome face. What had Anna said? Henry was handsome enough, he just ruined things when he opened his mouth. She had to agree. He was quite nice to look at. Tall, brown hair, green eyes that seemed to swirl and draw you in. And he had a nice body, she knew that. She'd felt pretty much every part of him over the years that they'd worked together. Firm arms and chest, tight stomach, long legs with a decent amount of hair, but not too much, a nice ass that he'd flashed her countless times. There was a reason he had a legion of female admirers. He got a ton of fan mail delivered to the set each week. Even women who worked on the crew were always bringing him cupcakes or doughnuts or whatever 'just because'. A favourite trick of his was to go around set on his birthday asking for kisses. He usually got them. He was skilled at getting women to do what he wanted, she knew that. She'd witnessed him at work for years, and could understand his appeal. If she didn't know him, if they'd just met randomly, perhaps she would be pulled in by him as well, by his eyes, his smirk, his body.

"You've got a nice ass, Henry, I'll say that," she said, then burst out laughing as she realized she'd mentioned it out loud.

"Thank you," he said easily. "You've got a great ass too, even based on the little I've seen of it."

"Naughty," she chided him, though she didn't remove her hand from his grasp as she turned and looked back out the window.

The car eventually pulled in front of the hotel. The driver opened the door on Henry's side and he got out first, reaching back in and pulling her out. She wavered slightly before steadying herself, holding on to his jacket as he put his arm around her waist and led her into the hotel. There were a few paparazzi milling about, and she smiled as they took their photo, though she didn't look in their direction. Once they were within the safety of the lobby, he guided her over to the elevator, swiping her card against the scanner and holding her from behind as the doors closed.

She sighed and watched their reflection in the mirrored ceiling as the elevator rose. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, then stopped, just breathing on her skin, inhaling her scent as her floor approached. His breath was warm on her skin, felt soothing somehow, a comfortable caress. When the elevator doors opened, she stepped forward, his arm going around her waist again as they walked down the hall to her room together.

She blinked as the lights of the hallway seemed dim and blurred. Shaking her head to refocus her vision, she was soon at her suite, leaning against the wall as Henry unlocked the door and opened it.

"Right this way, my Lady," he drawled, holding her hand and taking her into the darkness within.

She followed, the door closing behind them.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, May 2016**

Matthew closed his eyes, then opened them, the hot water beating down on him. Since he'd gotten home, his mind was a mess. The beers from before had helped relax him a bit, but they'd worn off by the time he'd put Lavinia in a cab and walked from Kensington Market back to his place. The twenty minute walk had helped him clear his head, but that unfortunately left him fully lucid to think about his predicament.

Mary. He would be working with Mary.

When they were dating, they'd often joke about working together, imagining different projects that they might take on. They'd even gone so far as to look at different parts in some theatre productions that might appeal to them. There was always something that ended up getting in the way. One of them would find another project that they liked more, or the scheduling wouldn't work out. Well, now without even trying, they'd be playing opposite each other, in a Hollywood movie no less. The script had them spending most of their screen time together, from the first meeting, through the second random run-in, the beginnings of the seduction, the love scenes, the arguments and the ending.

The love scenes. They would be having sex on camera, well fake sex anyway. He knew that it wasn't nearly as arousing as it looked, far more mechanical and choreographed, but he'd still be in bed with Mary, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He couldn't get her out of his head. When he closed his eyes, she was naked before him, on her knees or on top of him, writhing in ecstasy and calling his name. When he opened his eyes, her presence was everywhere, she had shampoo, conditioner and body wash still arranged neatly on the shower shelf. On his way to the bathroom he passed areas of the apartment where she'd been - the kitchen island, the living room sofa, the terrace, the bedroom. Even as recently as a few months ago, he would have been elated to play the role of Mary's lover, but now, the prospect was not nearly as appealing.

He groaned as he stood up straight, reaching for the soap. His body obviously felt a particular way about the prospect of working so closely with Mary. As he began to wash, he wondered if it wasn't time for him to start thinking with his mind instead.

 **Gansevoort Park Avenue Hotel, Flatiron District, Manhattan, New York City, USA, May 2016**

Mary stepped out of her heels and walked across the hotel suite, turning into the bedroom and opening the door to the Juliet balcony. Leaning on the rail, she breathed in the cool evening air, smiling at the vibrant city all around her, still buzzing with life at this late hour.

"Lovely view, isn't it?" Henry asked, coming up behind her and nuzzling the nape of her neck. His hands moved around her and took hold of the balcony, leaning over slightly to keep her in place.

"You know, in all the years that we've been coming here, I don't think I've ever just taken the time to stop and watch the city for a bit," she mused. "We're always running around for events, press conferences, screenings, parties, it's a whirlwind from the moment we touch down to the moment we take off again. It's quite nice to just breathe it all in for a second."

"It is," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Very nice, indeed."

"Thank you for seeing me back here safely," she said, laughing pleasantly as she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. "You can be nice when you try."

"Don't let the word get out. It will ruin my carefully crafted reputation," he joked.

She laughed at that, then hummed knowingly as she felt his arousal against her backside.

"It's not so bad, is it, Mary? Being here with me, just the two of us? It's not nearly as abhorrent as you imagined, is it?" he asked lightly, his lips brushing across her ear.

"No, it isn't," she admitted, closing her eyes and leaning back against him. "As I said, you can be nice."

"And I've got a nice ass," he said.

She laughed merrily and nodded. "That you do. You show it off to me enough times, to be certain."

"You can see it as often as you like, darling," he said thickly. "That and more. I'm at your service."

Her phone buzzed and she looked down suddenly at her clutch, still dangling from the wristlet around her arm. She reached in and grabbed it, opening and reading the text message that flashed across the screen. Blinking in shock, the words seemed to jump out at her, her addled brain processing them slowly, but doing nothing to lessen their impact. Taking a deep breath, she put her phone away and turned around to face him, his arms still framing her, keeping her in place.

"Henry," she said, reaching up and caressing his face.

"Mmm, Mary, darling," he replied, pressing his forehead against hers, his lips so invitingly close. She could smell his cologne, mixed with his sweat, and it wasn't unpleasant. Combined with the warm night air, it was heady and strong, reminding her that she was in New York, high above in a posh hotel, unattached and all powerful, free to do whatever she liked.

"It's time for you to go," she said softly. "Thank you once again for seeing me back here. It was very kind of you."

He blinked in surprise, drawing back to look at her strangely. "Don't you want me to stay? It's just the two of us here, no rules, no expectations. Wouldn't it do you good to let go a bit, Mary? Wouldn't it be fun to just live in the moment?"

"Living in the moment usually means having regrets the next morning," she said, gently pushing him back into the room. "We had a nice time tonight, Henry. Let's be grateful for it and not try and push our luck."

He frowned, watching her in bewilderment for a moment, then finally stepped back, allowing her to push him firmly into the living area and towards the door.

"Just answer me this, then," he said, stopping her. "Were you at least tempted? Did you at least consider spending the night with me?"

She smiled warmly at him and shook her head, patting his face once again.

"Oh, Henry," she said, her voice sounding much more lucid than he'd heard it all night. "In the end, you're right. The prospect of us being together in real life is very appealing…to others. Fans, network executives, gossip columnists, they'd all devour such news, and spin it as they wanted. That's why tomorrow there will surely be photos of me leaving with you from the club with your arm around me, and maybe the limo driver will spill about how he saw you kissing me on the drive back here, the paparazzi saw us come back in together, and the bellboys and valets saw us go up in the elevator to my suite. If you linger in the hall long enough before going back down, the story will be that Henry Talbot went back to Mary Crawley's hotel and didn't emerge for an hour or two. That's more than enough to stir the pot and get tongues wagging, don't you think?"

He blinked in surprise, then laughed heartily and shook his head.

"The cold and careful Lady Mary Crawley," he declared. "Getting all the buzz without having to commit to anything in return. Well played. Very well played, indeed."

She laughed with him as he went and put on his shoes and headed for the door. "I'm sure you aren't too bothered," she said kindly. "You've got another woman waiting to hear from you right this moment, don't you?"

"Two, actually," he said, his eyes bright as he smirked at her. "Both brunettes, in fact."

"Of course," she said, shaking her head. She stepped forward and gave him a light kiss. "Good night, Henry. I'll see you back in Toronto."

"Good night, darling," he replied. "You do realize that this will do nothing to deter me, don't you?"

"I would expect nothing less," she retorted, nodding to him as he left and headed down the hall to the elevator.

She locked the door and walked back to her bedroom, sitting down on the bed and holding her head in her hands, a long, weary breath leaving her lips. Frowning, she reached for her phone again and tossed her clutch on to a nearby chair. Anna's text message was still on her screen, the glare of the light hitting her eyes as she read it again, shaking her head in disbelief. The buzz of the tequila was gone, leaving a queasy emptiness behind.

 _"Alex says that Matthew won the part of Nico. He's going to be playing your lover."_

* * *

 **Song Credits (in order of appearance):**

 **Super Bass -** Nicki Minaj, (2010), Young Money, Cash Money, Universal Motown

 **Moment 4 Life -** Nicki Minaj feat. Drake, (2010), Young Money, Cash Money, Universal Motown


	5. Chapter 5

**Previously:**

 **Gansevoort Park Avenue Hotel, Flatiron District, Manhattan, New York City, USA, May 2016**

"The cold and careful Lady Mary Crawley," he declared. "Getting all the buzz without having to commit to anything in return. Well played. Very well played, indeed."

She laughed with him as he went and put on his shoes and headed for the door. "I'm sure you aren't too bothered," she said kindly. "You've got another woman waiting to hear from you right this moment, don't you?"

"Two, actually," he said, his eyes bright as he smirked at her. "Both brunettes, in fact."

"Of course," she said, shaking her head. She stepped forward and gave him a light kiss. "Good night, Henry. I'll see you back in Toronto."

"Good night, darling," he replied. "You do realize that this will do nothing to deter me, don't you?"

"I would expect nothing less," she retorted, nodding to him as he left and headed down the hall to the elevator.

She locked the door and walked back to her bedroom, sitting down on the bed and holding her head in her hands, a long, weary breath leaving her lips. Frowning, she reached for her phone again and tossed her clutch on to a nearby chair. Anna's text message was still on her screen, the glare of the light hitting her eyes as she read it again, shaking her head in disbelief. The buzz of the tequila was gone, leaving a queasy emptiness behind.

 _"Alex says that Matthew won the part of Nico. He's going to be playing your lover."_

 **Chapter 5:**

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, May 2016**

It was impossible for Mary not to look at Matthew, and almost impossible for her to not make eye contact. He was sitting right next to her for one, the cast of _Shattered_ gathered around a long boardroom table for the read-through. She looked down at her script, highlighter at the ready, focusing on the typed pages, but every so often she would look over at him out of the corner of her eye, and when they came to one of his lines, she would steal a fuller glance, knowing his view was elsewhere and he wouldn't catch her out.

She hadn't seen, spoken, nor texted him since that last time they'd had sex, last month, before the auditions, back when he unceremoniously tossed her from his apartment in a snit. She was already leaving anyway, of course, but he didn't need to pick a fight, surely. There were times she'd considered contacting him, not to hash out what had happened between them, but to show him that she was past it and they could continue on as though the fight hadn't happened. She was prepared to be the mature one, to not bother assigning blame and just moving on. That was her plan, at first.

When Anna woke her in her hotel room in New York the morning after she learned he'd won the part playing her lover in _Shattered_ , he Nico to her Christina, she considered sending him a congratulatory text, a peace offering of sorts. However, after a continental breakfast in her room and a quick trip up to Central Park and The Met, she began to question whether it was she who should be making the first move at all. What if he didn't actually feel any animosity towards her? What if their little tiff had already been forgotten? Then there would be no need to contact him at all, as they didn't normally talk in between their dalliances.

Or, even if he was still mad at her days later – which would be such a Matthew thing to do – why did she have to text him and be the first to wave the white flag? He was the one who had blown up for no good reason when all she was trying to do was ask him about his audition. He was the one who had accused her of not caring about him, of 'not giving a fuck', which was not only rude, but just plain wrong. She was the established actress who had barely missed out on playing the lead role in this film, while he was the new boy getting his first taste of a true Hollywood studio project. He should be the one to congratulate her, to wish her well, regardless of whether he was still upset with her or not. Surely he would have heard that she was playing Christina at the same time she'd been told about him playing Nico? With such knowledge, propriety required that he reach out to her.

On the drive to La Guardia, she was sufficiently annoyed with him once more that she didn't bother to text him, and upon her return to Toronto, as the days went by with no word from him, so did her resolve strengthen to not be the first one to reach out. Let him stew in his own righteous indignation until he was blue in the face, for all she cared. She'd like to see him try and make it through all the months of filming without speaking to her.

So what if it had now been 37 days since they'd last had sex? When she first moved to Toronto after the breakup, she'd gone months without sex. His body was nice and his skill was undeniable, but she didn't need either, at least not for now. By contrast, she was confident he wouldn't be able to go without her for much longer. He was probably watching her sex scenes from _Paladin_ every night to get by, she thought wickedly, and this made her feel better. No, she wouldn't be the first to contact him. Wait just a bit, and he'd be crawling back to her.

So wait she did, and nothing. This was the first time in over a month that they were even in the same room.

She chanced a look over at him again. He was reading his script, his brow furrowed in concentration, his fingers flipping his pen around and around, an old habit she recalled, something he did when he got nervous. He was growing a bit of a beard, a thin layer of stubble clear on his face now. Maybe Thea and the producers had told him to do it. Maybe they wanted a bit of a rugged look for Nico, make him appear a tad roguish, a man with a rough edge to lure Christina in. Matthew did look quite refined, usually, a little…how did Catherine describe him when they saw him sing that one night? Basic. Yes, he looked basic, normal, unassuming, safe. The Nico character wasn't supposed to be like that. He was supposed to be everything that Christina's husband, David, wasn't – direct, aggressive, rough, dangerous even. He was a man with something dark lurking beneath the surface, a man that didn't fit in the neat and tidy world of a woman like her, a man capable of tearing her life apart, throw her off kilter and make her want him to do so. Matthew's beard was still thin, but it did give him a different element than what she was used to.

It wasn't a bad look, she admitted, turning back to her own pages.

* * *

Matthew coughed and took a sip of water as he followed along with the rest of the cast. Mary had come in later than everyone else, having come straight from the set of _Paladin_. She had sent Anna over first to explain her delay to everyone, Thea and the others easily accepting that she would be along shortly as she was just wrapping on one of the last episodes. As a result, he didn't have a chance to talk to her before she took her assigned seat next to him.

Her cheeks were a bit flushed from hurrying. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, obviously doing whatever she could to get it under control after filming. She even still had a bit of glitter on her face around her eyes, left over from the signature look of her character, Jade. She was wearing a camisole over a tank top, shorts and sandals, a casual look thrown together when she got off the set, but one that worked well. The weather in the city had turned quite hot as of late, and even though the room they were in now was appropriately air conditioned, everyone was wearing casual summer attire as well.

He kept his head down, focused on his script, rather than the way her hair gathered and fell down her pale neck to stop just above her bare shoulders, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath, her long legs, her skin still pale despite the glorious days of sunshine that had finally become the norm.

He knew they had to talk. He'd even practised what he wanted to say, writing out a draft and revising it more times than he wanted to admit. It wasn't realistic to expect her to discuss what happened between them the last time they were together. Mary was probably over their argument already, and more than likely didn't care about it anyway, so what was the point? Even if he did try to have that conversation, she would dismiss it before he could even get to the real issues between them. No, it was more important that they talk about how they were going to work together, establish some ground rules, some parameters. Mary had far more experience than he did, both in terms of working on films and working on Hollywood pictures. His performance depended on her, and he couldn't risk being any less than his absolute best just because he was having an ongoing row with his ex-girlfriend. Mary was already established, both through _Paladin_ and some smaller movie roles she'd done in past years. All of this would come easily to her. He had never worked on a project with a budget like this one, or with a cast this talented and famous. Millions of dollars were literally riding on him playing the role of Nico as well as he could. That was where his focus had to be.

His nerves calmed a bit as they went through the scenes. He knew his lines already, and it was a bit exciting to be reciting them with the rest of the cast present, rather than playing off of Lavinia, or a producer. The session made everything seem real, finally.

Whenever it was Mary's turn to speak, he paid particularly close attention. It was mainly to get used to the different accent and cadence of her voice that she would be using in this role, so different from what he was used to in real life. As they went along, he enjoyed listening to her, found himself identifying the character of Christina with Mary – the look, the voice, the mannerisms that she was using. By the time they finished with the script and Thea congratulated them all, he was feeling quite comfortable. Yes, he and Mary still had things to talk about in private, but for now, he felt he belonged.

"All right now, let me talk to our four main leads for a bit," Thea said, clasping her hands together and looking from Rick, to Natalie, to Mary, to Matthew. "We're going to go a bit method for this one, because it's so crucial that the audience gets the relationship dynamics right from the first scene. The focus of the film is the build-up to the affairs, so we really need the chemistry to fly off the screen right away. If they can't accept from the opening scenes that your characters are who we say they are, then we'll have lost them and it will be a slog. If we can hold their attention right from the off, then we can start adding all the layers and complications as we develop each of you through the movie, and they'll come right along for the ride. We have to get them to care about each of you, otherwise we're screwed."

Mary and Matthew nodded in acknowledgment.

"Right, so, how do we do that? Natalie, I want you and Rick to spend a lot of time together, just hanging out, get out and see the city if you like. There needs to be this sense of comfort between your characters. We want a sort of vibrant connection at first, so the audience can see this clear contrast in your interaction as opposed to David's with his wife, which will be far colder. It isn't enough that we're putting two gorgeous people in front of the camera and having you do scenes together. The audience has to believe that you two could be attracted to each other, that you could be a couple, so that when we come to that moment in the film, they'll already have it in their heads that you look right together, rather than that David is cheating on his wife with the pretty young thing down the street."

"Just how far do you want us to take this preparation, then?" Natalie joked, drawing laughs from the rest of them, though Mary and Matthew seemed to force theirs a bit more.

"I want a comfort level, nothing scandalous," Thea warned, smirking at them. "The last thing I need is for both of your partners to hate me. It'll be bad enough when they see what you're going to be doing onscreen."

They all laughed knowingly.

"So, got it? Good. Now, on to Mary and Matthew. I need the both of you to do a bit more work. Christina is slower to come around to the idea of cheating, but she's drawn to Nico, sees something in him that she isn't getting in her marriage. Even though the focus of the movie is more on David and Sidney, I don't want your story to get lost, or treated as an afterthought. So, spend time together, get used to each other, and also drill down a bit into the dynamics of this relationship. What is it? How did it come to be? It can't just be the neglected wife falls for the wrong guy. That's weak, and far too flimsy. I need something more, something deeper, a connection that the audience may not like, but that they can at least admit could happen. If all four of you work on this now, when we get to shooting, we'll be that much further ahead, and as we move along, we can refine it, and refine it, and refine it, and hopefully we'll see a progression in your performances that mirrors the way the relationships of your characters evolve."

Matthew nodded, though his throat felt a bit dry. Thea was asking for nuances and subtleties, chemistry that took months to develop, except she wanted it right away. This seemed daunting, and complex, and immensely challenging. He was absolutely terrified, and loving every second of it.

"Ahem, and what about Rick and I?" Mary asked, ignoring Matthew's somewhat surprised glance. "David and Christina do have scenes together."

"Good point," Thea acknowledged. "But I actually want to go in the opposite direction for you two. I don't want you spending any time together at all before we shoot. David and Christina are married, but I want a palpable awkwardness, a coldness between them, a complete lack of comfort. They're strangers living under the same roof, so the less you and Rick know about each other, the better. I want your dialogue to seem wooden and stunted a bit, as if it's painful for the two of you to even speak to each other about the most basic things, and painful for the audience to watch you interact. So, Rick, you're with Natalie. Mary, you're with Matthew. You can say hi to each other offscreen, but that's about it."

"I apologize in advance for being an asshole to you, Mary," Rick joked. "It's not intentional."

She laughed and nodded, giving him an understanding smile. All the while her stomach lurched. Now not only was she playing opposite Matthew, she was being ordered to spend time with him off-set. Thea knew them from back in England, but she wasn't aware of their past relationship. She clearly also wasn't aware of the implications of just what she was asking them to do, and Mary certainly wasn't going to be the one to point it out. They were professionals, and the last thing she wanted was for the producers to rethink her involvement just because she was playing opposite her real life ex. She didn't need to look at Matthew to know he was likely having similar thoughts. At least they were of the same mind on this topic, as opposed to others.

"All right, so there's your take-home assignments until we meet again in June. Now, Mary has to get back to the _Paladin_ set and I believe Natalie has a conference call with the studio heads about another project, so I'll let you all go, and good luck, have some fun with it!" Thea said cheerfully.

Mary packed up her things and took off for her trailer, not bothering to say goodbye, despite feeling Matthew's eyes on her as she left.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, May 2016**

Alex exhaled as he steered his Lamborghini convertible on to their quiet street. He loved it when the weather got warmer in the city. Not only did it seem to bring everyone outside and make the downtown far more vibrant, but it also allowed him to get his cars out of the garage. During the cold winters, Toronto streets were covered in salt, sand and slush, and it wasn't possible for him to risk his sports cars wading through that slop. While winter wasn't nearly as harsh as some thought, the streets were usually a mess, even when it didn't snow, so May was the earliest he put the SUV away. He could never get his cars up to speed on the commute to work, given traffic, construction and the short distance, but he liked driving the fifteen minutes down and back all the same.

"Sure you want to go home? I think there were a few girls wearing next to nothing on Bloor that were drooling over you and your car," Anna said pointedly from her seat on the passenger side. "Or are you dropping me off, then heading back down to have a look?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied easily. "I keep my eyes safely on the road ahead. Anytime I'm not focused on my driving, I'm looking at you, which you obviously are well aware of, otherwise you wouldn't have worn those shorts."

She laughed and crossed her legs as he hit a button on the mirror and their garage door opened just in time for him to pull the car in. He got out first, coming around and lifting the scissor door on her side and helping her up from the low profile racing seat.

"Now. What shall we do about dinner? I'm starving," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders as they went into the house.

"Already taken care of. We're having chicken with rice and greens," she replied, smiling at him and heading towards the kitchen.

"We're cooking?" he asked with mock confusion.

"I'm cooking, yes. My wifely duties are not limited to the bedroom, you know. We've been eating out a bit too much lately, so we're going to stay in and have a proper meal out on the patio," she stated.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling as she went to the fridge and pulled out the plates of raw chicken breasts, Chinese broccoli and tofu. "What can I do?"

"You can make the rice, and find a bottle of wine to go with dinner," she said, going over to the sink and washing her hands. "And you can put your phone on silent. I already did."

He smiled and playfully nudged her with his hip as he washed his hands. She laughed and swatted at him, before moving away and putting a cutting board on the kitchen island. She quickly sharpened a knife, then went about slicing the chicken.

"Remember I've got the wrap party for _Paladin_ this Saturday," she reminded him. "It seems like filming this season has taken forever. I'll be glad to finally see the end of it, although that just means we'll be into _Shattered_ in earnest, but still."

"Ah, so now I see why you're cooking dinner tonight. I suppose I'll be stuck eating leftovers alone while you're out partying it up with Mary and everyone else," he joked, grabbing the rice cooker from the cabinet and scooping three cups' worth into the pot.

"I told you that you could come along. You said no," she retorted, seasoning the chicken and setting it aside, then putting the cutting board and knife into the sink and washing her hands again.

"Yeah, because husbands are always welcomed at those things," he replied. "Are you at least coming home afterwards or should I not expect you until sometime on Sunday?" he asked, washing the rice before putting the pot in the rice cooker and setting the timer.

"You're hilarious," she said, frowning at him. 'Of course I'm coming home afterwards. You'll be expecting me to be drunk so you can take advantage, no doubt."

"I would hope that my wife would be attracted to me even when she's sober, actually," he said wryly. "But if alcohol is required to have you take pity on me, then I guess I'm just going to have to accept it."

She rolled her eyes and went about preparing the broccoli. "Always with the snappy comebacks. The way you're going, I may need quite a bit of alcohol if you're looking for some pity tonight."

He laughed and leaned over to kiss her lightly. "Sorry, love."

She grinned and put a pot of water on the stove to boil.

"Should I push my luck and ask if you've had the talk with Mary about the Great Matter? Her schedule seems to be set for the next year," he suggested.

"Actually, I did," she replied smugly, giving him a teasing smirk.

"You did?" he questioned, blinking in surprise.

"Mmm hmm," she said, turning and coming towards him. "I told her that we're going to start trying very soon."

"We are?" he said slowly, staring at her as she came into his arms.

"She was very happy for us, and quite supportive. I'm going off the pill in a month," she confirmed. "I went to see the doctor and got some recommendations on some vitamins and diet and that sort of thing. I want to have a few weeks of taking the right supplements and what not before we really give it a go. I'm lucky in that I don't have any of the tougher side effects that most women have from the pill, but I still want to be careful."

"Of course, love," he said, kissing her warmly. "Whatever you want."

"Right now, I want you to find a decent white, then go out and set the table before you get changed," she said, patting his chest before going back to her cooking.

"Yes, dear," he said in a pretend sing-song voice.

She shook her head at his antics. He seemed quite giddy as he browsed the bottles in the wine fridge while she put the broccoli into a colander and submerged it in the boiling water. Though she didn't say anything further, she was feeling quite pleased herself.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, May 2016**

"Be nice. Be nice," Mary repeated, nodding her head as she went to her front door. Holding on to the door knob for a moment, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened the door.

"Hi," she said, her voice neutral, though she couldn't stop herself from arching her eyebrow as she appraised her visitor. "Come in," she finished, stepping aside to allow him into her condo and closing the door behind him.

"Thanks for letting me come up," Matthew said, removing his shoes and walking with her into the living room. "Sorry for just showing up like this."

"Well, you're rather lucky that I was home," she said cautiously, heading to the kitchen. "But I couldn't just leave you downstairs at the mercy of the concierge."

"He did look at me rather suspiciously. Probably thought I was a delusional fan, or worse," he said, shaking his head and chuckling. "I'll remember to come see him should my ego ever get too big."

"I'm sure others will keep you in line without having to resort to that," she joked, returning with two glasses of water. She handed one to him and motioned for him to sit down on one of the couches.

"Thank you," he said, accepting the drink and taking a sip. He put the glass down as she took a seat on the sofa on the other side, the distance between them obvious and likely done on purpose. "Well, I wanted to have a chat, since we didn't have time at the read-through earlier. I know that playing Christina isn't what you wanted, but I know you'll do brilliantly, all the same."

She smiled and nodded at his compliment. When he texted her that he was downstairs, she wasn't sure what to expect. Was he coming to confront her? If he needed to talk to her, could it not just wait until tomorrow? She'd barely eaten dinner after leaving the set, and she had another long day ahead of her tomorrow as they pushed to finish the last episode. Still, she wanted to get it over with, whatever he wanted to say. His having started the conversation with a kind word put her a bit more at ease. Had he tried to scold her, she was likely to claw his eyes out.

"Thank you, and congratulations on getting to play Nico. I'm happy for you, Matthew, truly," she said.

He nodded. "I'm still a bit overwhelmed by the entire thing, to be honest. It's strange when your first paycheque on a film will be bigger than what you made for the past two years combined. Anyway, I realize this is a very important opportunity for me, and I just want you to know that I intend to work my ass off. I want to do my absolute best. I won't let you down, I assure you."

She blinked in surprise, then recovered and smiled. "I'm sure that you won't. Even though playing Christina wasn't my first choice, it still is a significant role in a movie for a major Hollywood studio. I've got plenty of reason to make it work. With Thea and the rest of the cast, I'm confident we'll do quite well."

"Yes, well, I was thinking about something that Thea said today, actually, about how we need to spend time together," he said.

"Yes, rather funny that," she said, shaking her head and laughing a bit. "If she only knew…"

"Right," he agreed, nodding along. "It's still a good suggestion nonetheless. It will put us in the right mindset, I think, give us a chance to really get into who these characters are and why they're attracted to each other."

"Surely we can figure that out by working through the script. We don't need to go on a series of fake dates to see how two people can become involved in an affair," she said lightly.

"True, but I don't want to leave anything to chance," he persisted. "We can't just assume that our…history…means that we'll have chemistry onscreen. These characters aren't who we are, really, so it's all brand new."

"So you're saying you intend to seduce me, are you?" she teased.

"I don't think there's enough time for that. We're only filming for six months," he joked.

She smiled and nodded.

"I just think we can work on this together, actually map out who the characters are and how we're going to play them, so it's not just relying on some abstract idea but we can really know them, even plan out how we'll approach different scenes and all of it. We don't need to go on fake dates, but we should see more of each other, to establish the proper rapport."

"Very well. I'm game if you are," she agreed.

"Good. Good. Erm, the other thing that I was going to say was that it's important that we are professional about this, that we are entirely focused on the job. So, I think it would be best if we didn't…erm…continue our arrangement, that is…while filming is going on."

"What? Oh," she said, blinking in surprise.

"I don't mean to be presumptuous. If you weren't intending to anyway, then all the better. I just think that…" he continued, speaking quickly.

"We're of the same mind, then," she interrupted him. "I thought it went without saying, but I agree that it would be best to put all of…that…on hold, since we'll be working so closely together. We wouldn't want to mix work with…the other thing."

His eyes widened at how easily she agreed. "Oh, good. Good. I'm…glad."

"It makes perfect sense," she said.

"Absolutely," he agreed.

"We were probably coming to the end of all that, anyway," she suggested.

"The end? Right…yes…I suppose," he muttered.

"Well, now, I'm glad that's sorted. It is getting rather late, though, and I have calls I need to return," she noted.

"Of course. I probably should go anyway," he said, standing up.

"We can talk tomorrow and figure out a schedule, see what times we're available to discuss the script and how we're going to go about our…homework," she said, escorting him to the door.

"That sounds good, yeah. All right, well, good night, Mary," he said. For a second, he turned and leaned towards her, as though he were about to give her a kiss, but he paused and stopped himself, instead just nodding and turning away to reach for the door.

"Good night," she said, standing back and watching him leave, the door closing behind him.

He barely stepped into the hall when he looked over at the closed door, frowning and blinking, trying to piece together what had just happened. Shaking his head, he slowly made his way along the plush carpet and pressed the button for the elevator, his head down, eyes vacant.

She lingered in the foyer for a moment, staring at the door. Her mind was rather jumbled, the conversation still fresh. The end, they'd called it, and she supposed it really was. They were no longer lovers, exes, nearly engaged, none of it. Colleagues was what they were now, nothing more. Eventually, she turned and walked away, passing through the living room and heading down the hall to her bedroom. Sitting down on the bed, she closed her eyes and sighed, her shoulders sagging.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, May 2016**

"I want to have a bit of a get-together," Anna declared, putting on her sunglasses as Alex turned the Lamborghini out of their driveway and on to the street.

"A get-together? For what, exactly, and when?" he asked.

"For Canada Day," she replied. "We can have cocktails by the pool, a barbecue, some music. Good food and good friends, what could be more Canadian?"

"Just because you married a Canadian doesn't mean you are one. Not yet. Besides, I thought you wanted to rent a cottage for that weekend?" he noted.

"I did, at first, but I don't think we'll be able to manage it," she said, sighing with regret. "Mary's going to be working both before and after July 1. It doesn't make sense to go up north just for a day or two. We'll stay home, instead, and make the most of it. It isn't as though we don't have the room to have people over."

"Fair enough," he allowed. "I'll handle the food and drinks. You deal with the guests."

"Perfect," she said, running her hand through her hair as the sun shone down on them and he gunned the engine, changing lanes and heading down to the lakefront to drop her off at Pinewood.

 **Belfast Love Public House, King West, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 2016**

Mary passed under the neon sign and down the short flight of stairs into the darkened basement. The pub was rather crowded, with most of the tables filled and a small group gathered at the bar. The space was alive with the noise of chatter, laughter and music, and she moved easily among the mob, a few men taking notice of her, most likely because of her sleeveless halter top and skirt. Surely they didn't know who she was.

Toronto was different from New York and Los Angeles as far as the level of insanity that greeted celebrities. Whether it was because Canadians were more reserved by nature, or whether she simply wasn't as big a star as the popular musicians and professional athletes who lived here, Mary never had any problems going out in the city. She took the odd selfie with a fan on the street, or signed an autograph or two from time-to-time, but mostly she could come and go as she pleased and never be bothered. No one interrupted her while she ate, no one approached her when she went shopping, and, as tonight showed, no one gave her a second look when she went out to a bar. She did get hit on here and there, but this place was far more laid back than a nightclub, and so she didn't expect any man to slobber all over her tonight.

Matthew smiled and made eye contact with her from a high-top table in the middle of the room. She came over and joined him, nodding as he slid a Guinness in front of her. They raised their pints to each other and took an easy sip.

"Not bad," she noted, putting her glass down and looking around the room. "Not a true Irish pub, but it'll do."

"It's a bit cleaner than other places," he agreed. "I expect Nico would have taken Christina to somewhere grimier, but I didn't think you wanted that exact a level of realism."

"Are you saying that I'm too posh to go to a proper pub?" she teased.

"Aren't you?" he retorted, smirking at her as he reached for the snack mix in the bowl between them.

"Less than you might think," she said, smiling to herself.

"Well, anyway, the bar scene in the script will likely be shot somewhere more sterile, like this place, so we can use it as our mock-up for planning how to attack it. Now, Christina notices him shooting pool with his mates, and he stands out," he began. "She sees him, watches him, they make eye contact a few times. I think I'm supposed to play it as confident, assured, interested. I like the attention. Having a beautiful woman giving me a going over isn't new."

"Yes, and I'll turn away, a bit embarrassed at being caught staring, but still intrigued," she said. "It feels wrong to check out another man, but she does it anyway. And she's not the type of woman he's used to. She's a bit too classy, too sophisticated. He usually doesn't draw women like her, so he's immediately drawn in, more so than if she was just another woman giving him the eye."

"I guess the question is how to sell the audience on why Nico is so special," he pondered.

"You don't think the way you'll look in a tight t-shirt will be enough?" she asked, sticking her tongue out a bit to lessen the sarcasm in her jibe.

"Well, I know that's what the script calls for, but I think that's a bit insulting to Christina. She's not out looking for anything, at least not in the beginning. So, to be swayed at all to even consider the idea of a lover, she needs to see more than just a fit body to become interested. After all, she must see men all the time in her normal life. What makes him so different?" he asked.

She smiled at his comment. "You have thought this through," she noted.

"I just would hope that there's more that women look for than a set of muscles and a big…erm…a handsome face. It would be terribly disappointing for us normal lads if that's what did it," he said sheepishly.

She laughed and shook her head. "All right, so how do we make a more lasting connection between them on the first meeting?"

"Without changing the dialogue, it would have to be in something he does. The shared look is a start, but what else? She can't care that he's good at pool, surely," he said, frowning in thought.

"What about his winnings?" she offered.

"What about them? He wins the match and takes the money," he said. "She's already rich. A few hundred in cash isn't going to affect her."

"Yes, but what if instead of putting the cash away in his jeans, he does something else? Something unexpected that gets her attention?" she noted.

"Such as…sharing his prize with his mates…" he said, nodding his head slowly.

"Exactly. It shows a generous side, a friendly side that she's not expecting. It doesn't change the script, and when you do it, I'll look over with a mix of confusion and interest," she followed.

"I like it," he said, nodding his head. "Not just a pretty face, but one of the boys, and generous, too. The audience will see that, and at the very least, they'll think it's unexpected. Yeah, could work."

She smiled and took another sip of her beer. It was a rather brilliant idea that he came up with, or was it hers?

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I think it's a good idea. Anytime you don't have to change the script and can work in character development through gestures and body language, it helps enhance the overall performance. Show don't tell, and all that," she said.

"Yes, but do you think it's realistic? Would women notice it, or would they be focused on his body and nothing else?" he asked.

"Well, if you're asking if women can be just as superficial as men, then the answer is most certainly they can be," she said easily. "It's the overall impression, though. Yes, the body is nice to look at, and it's attractive that he's a winner, even if it's just at pool, and if he identifies as the leader of his group, the alpha, that can be quite enticing as well."

"And when he appears generous with all of them, that's an added bonus, another factor in his favour," he suggested.

"It would be for me," she replied. "The physical attraction can be quite powerful on its own, but the rest of it helps sell the fantasy. See a man with a great body and you can picture having sex with him, feeling those arms, that chest, imagining how big he is. But if he also seems smart and kind, now he's someone who you may not be afraid to bring home with you, and even have breakfast with in the morning. Women may act just as dirty as men, but they don't want to identify themselves that way. Picking up a hot guy can make you feel like a slut, whether it's exciting or not. Picking up a hot guy with brains and a heart, now that feels more like a date."

"A date where you sleep together right away," he joked.

"Whatever works," she retorted, laughing saucily.

He nodded, smiling as he took in her pleased expression. Their time together over the past two days had been wonderfully productive. As always, Mary was driven and disciplined when it came to her craft, and he'd spent hours researching different scenes in the script to prepare for their sessions together. How would Nico dress? Where would he hang out? What was his backstory – education, upbringing, past jobs, past relationships? He made copious notes on all of it, and though she didn't show her hand, it seemed Mary was impressed, or at least, didn't think he was hopeless as of yet.

"All right, so after the first meeting in the bar, they meet again a few days later," he said, moving on to the next part of the script.

"She's just had a furious row with David, so she's feeling angry and confused. Her perfect world is showing a few cracks, and she doesn't know how to handle it," she added.

Her eyes stayed on his face as he took a drink and looked at his phone to find the right passage in the script. When he first brought up the idea of doing their own more detailed run-through, she was sceptical. Spending time on preparation was only effective if it was done efficiently, otherwise you ended up poring over the script countless times with no real direction or progress. He had surprised her though, with how much work he'd put in already, and how everything was done in a deliberate and orderly way. Of course she knew he was cerebral and analytical. She knew that better than most, but to see him apply those qualities to his craft was impressive. Compared to someone like Henry, who acted on instinct and a sense for what a scene required based on his vast experience, Matthew's approach was much more structured. She found she preferred his way immensely.

"Right, so the second time they see each other, there needs to be a palpable connection between them, a tension, a chemistry. How do we…oh…" he stopped talking and rubbed his stomach.

"What is it?" she asked in concern.

He smiled apologetically and shook his head. "No, it's nothing. Sorry, my stomach is just reminding me that it's been hours since I last ate. I'll just get something. I think I noticed they have a fry-up on the menu, and some rather interesting pizzas as well, actually. Are you hungry? Did you want to share a dish with me?"

She smiled and nodded, reaching for her beer. "Sounds lovely."

He picked up the menu and turned it towards her, leaning in so they could decide what to order.

 **Fring's Restaurant, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 2016**

Matthew didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be walking up the street towards the restaurant on the corner surrounded by cheering fans and paparazzi. He didn't want to be brushing the stubborn forelock of hair back up away from his forehead yet again. This wasn't like him at all, to go to a wrap party and press the flesh, particularly for a show that he had nothing to do with. It would be a night of drinking and giving cheek kisses to people he didn't know, laughing at jokes that weren't funny and pretending to listen intently to stories that didn't interest him. The reasonable and logical thing to do would be to turn around and head back to his apartment, spend the evening studying his script, or researching his character, maybe even fitting in another workout in the gym or reading, watching television, whatever. There was almost no reason to be here.

Except he had promised Mary that he would show up.

She had mentioned it so casually, almost in passing. They were on a patio enjoying brilliant sunshine and a lovely charcuterie platter as they discussed a particularly tricky scene – the one where Christina confronted David over his affair. He was taken aback when she asked him to read it with her, thinking that it had nothing to do with him, really. His character wasn't even in it. But he had dutifully stood in as her movie husband, taking a not-entirely-disguised pleasure in calling her a bitch and snarling that if she had 'taken care of his needs' he wouldn't have thought of straying. They had run the scene about four times, and he wondered if any of the other diners or people walking by had heard them pretend to argue. She had tried different moods and tones, playing around with transitioning from hurt and sad to angry and vengeful, and all the while he just watched and listened in awe. Her ability to morph into a completely different person was incredible to see up close. They had discussed what approach worked best, ways she could glare, turn away, move her hands and so forth to add emphasis to different lines. It was so much fun working with Mary, creating with her. He had felt as though they were in perfect rhythm, entirely in step with each other's thoughts.

 _"What are you doing Saturday night?"_ she had asked.

 _"Nothing,"_ he replied, and it was true. He was probably going to grab some Vietnamese take away from the restaurant up the street.

 _"You should come to the wrap party. It's a few blocks away from you, and it'll be fun. I can introduce you to some of the network executives and producers, get your name out a bit. And it's free drinks and food, so that's worth it already. Susur Lee is handling the menu. It's his restaurant,"_ she had recounted jovially, and it did sound like a great time to hear her describe it.

 _"Uh, yeah, sure, why not?"_ he heard himself say, with no clue as to what he was going to wear or why he was even agreeing to go in the first place.

And here he was, each step drawing him closer to the commotion. The fans were relegated to the other side of the street, clearing the way for the limos to pull up and drop off their guests. Paparazzi were bordering the entrance, snapping away as the guests arrived, waved to the crowd and went inside. Matthew had deliberately waited an hour before heading over, but it seemed the party was still in its infancy all the same. He could only imagine the furore when Henry and Mary arrived, and this only darkened his mood.

He hadn't asked her about him. Why would he? How could he? He had no right to question her relationships, either professional or personal, not anymore. But he had seen the photos from New York last month. They had hit all over social media, graced the cover of _Us Weekly_ and _People_ , not to mention getting a full feature on TMZ and various other gossip and entertainment websites. Mary smiling as she leaned on Henry and left the nightclub, getting into a limo with him and disappearing into the New York night. Crystal clear shots of Henry escorting her into her hotel shortly after, his arm around her waist, her head bowed, her mouth still curled in that same silly grin. Anonymous sources claimed that they'd been canoodling both inside the nightclub and during the limo ride, a grainy photo of Henry seeming to kiss her hand as the limo pulled away from the kerb appearing to corroborate all of it. It was the circumstantial evidence that fans and media had been waiting for – confirmation that Henry and Mary were involved offscreen. The same gossip sites spat out breathless headlines for a full week afterwards – Henry was planning a grand trip for them once filming of _Paladin_ was over, a mini-vacation to the Caribbean before they had to go on to their next projects; 'sources close to Mary's camp' claiming she was flying to Australia to visit the set of _Thor:Ragnarok_ and surprise him; someone saying they had moved in together in Toronto, sharing the same suite and even the same trailer on set. It was all so much blather, and yet Matthew couldn't just shut it out the way he normally did.

He wasn't supposed to be jealous or upset. They were just colleagues now, their relationship entirely professional. That was what he wanted, and she'd agreed to it. So, what was the problem?

He sighed as he crossed the street, the cheering fans ignoring him as one of the newly arrived cast members waved and blew kisses to them. He sidestepped the photographers shooting away, a constant strobe of flashes popping off, and approached one of the security guards, a brute of a man who stood a foot taller and was about twice as wide as him.

"Name?" the burly guard growled, glancing at Matthew up and down.

"Erm, Matthew, Matthew Crawley. C-r-a-w-l-e-y," Matthew muttered.

The guard took his time scanning his tablet, looking over at Matthew, looking back at his screen, and so on, for what seemed like minutes.

"Right this way," he grumbled finally, lifting the velvet rope and stepping aside to let Matthew in. "Have fun."

Matthew smiled politely and nodded, disappearing into the dark interior, the thump of the bass from the music swallowing him up.

* * *

"Henry, behave," Mary said firmly, taking his hand and moving it off of her thigh. "We're almost there."

"Very well," Henry relented, smirking at her, then looking out the window. "It seems we have a bit of a crowd awaiting our arrival."

"The network probably arranged for that," she replied drily. "Put the word out in advance as to where we would be. You know how it works."

"I know that they're hoping for a show, of sorts," he teased, smiling at her. "What shall we give them? Fancy a light kiss before we go in?"

"No, thank you," she retorted. "There will be plenty of photos of us arriving together and supposed 'casual' snaps of us talking and laughing once we're inside. That's more than enough."

"How boring of you, darling," he said, sighing playfully. "You know I fly out for Aus late tomorrow afternoon. This could be your last night with me until February. We can put in an appearance, then have our own private after-party."

"Well, if you put it that way, I plan on staying in the restaurant dancing until dawn," she said, smiling sweetly and arching her eyebrow at him.

"You have remarkable restraint, I'll give you that," he said, laughing and shaking his head.

"Because I've resisted your advances for years? Please, Henry. It's honestly not been that difficult, and don't pretend that you have any actual feelings for me. You just want another conquest, that's all," she scoffed.

"Darling, don't hurt me deep in my heart like that!" he whinged, clutching his chest and giving her his best puppy dog eyes. "You're more than just a romp in the sack for me, surely you must know that?"

She eyed him suspiciously, arching her eyebrow at him. "I'd be a fool to believe you want anything more than to parade me around when it suits you and sex on demand."

"Careful, Mary, you might find you enjoy it," he said pointedly, giving her a leering smile.

"As I suspected," she said, rolling her eyes and looking out the window.

"All right, all right, I'll be a good boy," he said, throwing up his hands. "I honestly don't understand you, though. We're both single. We're both moving on to other projects and coming back here next year. We've worked ourselves ragged finishing up this series and tonight is our night to celebrate. Don't act like you couldn't use a good fuck tonight, because you most certainly could, and it would be good, Mary, damn good."

"Save such an enticing offer for whichever starry-eyed groupie you'll be leaving with tonight," she replied, not looking at him as the limo pulled up to the kerb. "Just because I'm single doesn't mean that I'll just jump into bed with you, Henry. My dating status has never been the reason why we've never been together."

"Then what is it?" he asked as the driver got out to open the door for them.

"Mainly? Your personality," she said, smirking at him as the door opened and the roar of the crowd swept over them.

He grinned and got out, nodding to the fans before reaching his hand in and helping her out. His arm went around her shoulders as she smiled and waved to the crowd, allowing him to lead her into the restaurant after they posed together for the cameras. She stayed by his side as they made their way through the crowd and joined their cast mates and producers on the dance floor, posing for numerous photos. Eventually, they were allowed to disperse and Anna came to her, a vodka and tonic with lime at the ready.

"Thank you," Mary said genuinely, looking at her assistant and friend pointedly as she took a sip. "I'll need another right away."

"Wait a while," Anna said, leaning in closer to be heard. "The media should all be ushered out in a few minutes."

* * *

Matthew hated being right sometimes, and now was one of those times.

He had wandered around the crowded restaurant when he first arrived, doing a circuit with no real purpose. He knew Mary hadn't yet arrived, and seeing the groups of cast and crew mingling, drinking and laughing, he knew there was nowhere for him to fit in. He ordered a Coke with no ice and found a quiet corner to escape to. There was a side room that looked promising, with a bar and a cosier atmosphere. He could hide out in there for a bit before making his retreat.

It wasn't her fault, and he knew that. Mary was the star of the show, and this was her party. Everyone here was waiting for her to arrive, waiting to heap praise upon her, waiting to bask in her glow, exchange hugs and kisses, take selfies, and dance the night away. Who was he to ask for priority over any of them? This was her family. She saw them more than she did Sybil, or Edith, or even him. Her invitation to him had sounded nice, but it was done for show, no real thought put into it, just as his answer had been just as reckless. This was her world, and there was no room for him. He thought he'd learned that hard lesson when they first broke up, but apparently he was up for another round of punishment.

Anna had found him eventually, and he kissed and hugged her, grateful to see a friendly face. She asked him if he needed another drink, or if he had been by the snack table yet. She mentioned something about a party at her and Alex's coming up in a few weeks, and he smiled and nodded along until her phone buzzed and she apologized, saying something about Mary being five minutes away. With that, she was gone. He didn't mind. He loved Anna, always admired how she was constantly concerned for others, making sure everyone was taken care of. She and Mary made a great team. This night was for her also, the end of what Matthew knew were always busy and tumultuous months of shooting. He was glad for Alex that Anna would be staying in Toronto over the summer. He knew how badly his good friend wanted to start a family, and he was hoping for the best for them. Alex and Anna were one of the happiest couples that Matthew knew, and deserved some joy in their lives.

When Mary finally made her arrival, he didn't need to look up to know. The roar of the crowd outside and the spontaneous applause from those inside told him she was here. She came in with Henry, of course, the two of them smiling and greeting everyone they saw as they made their way over to the centre of the dance floor. One of the producers was given a microphone and said a few kind words – thanking everyone on a great season, telling them the network was looking forward to this being the best series yet, and saying he couldn't wait to welcome them all back in February. It was all typical and predictable, and made Matthew feel even more of an outsider, as though he was intruding on someone else's celebration.

Then they unveiled the brand new trailer and the poster art that would be posted online, published in magazines and put on billboards and bus stops across the continent. He knew he shouldn't look but it was unavoidable. The images came fast, flashing to a heavy beat of some addictive pop song that he'd heard countless times. Henry kissing Mary's neck while she closed her eyes in pleasure, Mary shoving Henry's sword away from her head and pulling him into a fierce kiss, Henry tugging on Mary's hair from behind as she gasped in simulated ecstasy. The poster was Mary's face, eyes dark and staring back at the viewer, Henry's lips just below her ear, tongue reaching out to lick her skin. Matthew had grabbed a drink from a passing waiter and downed it in two long gulps.

He watched her move about the room, entirely in her element, moving in and out of various cliques with ease. She was everyone's friend, the star of the show and yet completely down-to-earth and approachable, just as comfortable doing shots with the other actresses on the show as she was taking photos with the lads who helped build the sets. It was impressive, watching her work the room, and was something he'd seen for years, from back when she was a teenager and would hold everyone's attention during her family's summer parties at Downton Abbey.

Over the next hour, he stayed in his corner, watching her from afar. She never texted him to find out where he was, never sent Anna to go and get him, never thought about him, from what he could tell. He wasn't angry, or frustrated, or even sad about it. This was her party. The last thing she needed was to hold her ex-boyfriend's hand and make him feel welcome. That wasn't her duty. Not anymore.

He finished his drink and placed the empty glass on a side table. Going over to the snack table, he loaded up a plate with hors d'oeuvres and desserts in the shape of the logo of the show, and made his way to the side room to eat, drink and wait out the remaining hour before he could leave.

* * *

Mary was having a blast, the last bits of tension and stress lifting from her shoulders as the night wore on. This past week had been most difficult, trying to finish up the final episodes while also preparing for _Shattered_ , every day was packed. She had to admit that she was loving it though, dealing with both her hit show and her movie role was fun, the kind of fast pace to her career that she'd wanted. Honestly, she'd been looking forward to tonight all week, not only because it signalled that she was finally done with the show for the year, but also because it was her chance to let loose and enjoy herself. Her schedule was packed for the rest of the summer, and so this night of revels was most welcome.

She did shots with Catherine and some of the other girls and ate the scrumptious snacks with Anna and some of the crew. There were always photographs to take and cheerful goodbyes to share. It felt like graduation day, the last time she'd see all of these people who she'd shared so much with over the years until 2017. The entire place was theirs for the night and the DJ was playing hit song after hit song. She would rush on to the floor and dance, then scamper off to the bar or snack table for a quick nosh, before a new song would beckon her to dance again. She was getting a bit delirious and loving it all.

When Rihanna's _Work_ came over the speakers, Catherine pulled a group of them on to the floor. They'd played this song on set in between takes when it first came out, even going so far as to learn the rather risqué dance moves and choreography. There were hilarious videos of them trying, and failing, to coordinate a group dance while wearing their costumes from the show. Tonight, in cocktail dresses and high heels, it was much easier, and Catherine and Mary led them through the moves, eight of them shaking it to rapturous applause and peals of laughter.

It was near the end of the song that Mary felt hands on her hips, looking over her shoulder as Henry smiled and grinded against her. She rolled her eyes and turned around, keeping him at arm's length as she kept dancing. In her tipsy state, her eyes wandered from his open shirt collar, down his designer suit that fit him perfectly, across his flat stomach and back up to his playful eyes. The memory of their time in New York came back to her, how much fun they had drinking expensive tequila and enjoying the throbbing music in the club. His words rang in her head again, sounding wonderfully soothing this time. _'Let loose, Mary…no commitments, Mary…you could use a good fuck, Mary…'_

It wasn't such a bad idea, she thought.

"Anna!" she blurted out suddenly, her eyes widening. "I've got to find Anna!"

Henry stared at her in confusion as she walked past him and left the dance floor, wandering about for a second looking for her assistant before Anna appeared at her side.

"Ah! There you are!" Mary said cheerfully above the loud music, kissing her cheek. "Do you know if Matthew showed up tonight? I told him to come!"

"He's here," Anna nodded, curious as to Mary's apparent need to find him. "He was just hanging around for a while. There's a side room over there. I think he might have gone in there."

Mary nodded and looked over, squinting a bit to find the room in question. Once sure she knew where she was going, she patted Anna on the shoulder and took off.

* * *

Matthew sighed, taking a sip of his sparkling water and putting the glass back down. He checked his phone. Still no message from Mary. Still another twenty minutes to go. He didn't know why he chose an hour as the arbitrary time he was required to wait before he just left, but he felt it was important to say he was here and stayed for a decent amount of time. No excuse, short of cardiac arrest, would be sufficient in Mary's eyes to allow him to not show up at all, so it was easier to say he came, saw that she was busy, hung out for a couple of hours, then went home. Even if she didn't believe him, she wouldn't call him on it, and they could continue with their professional relationship without issue. She had invited him here, he had come to show his support, a nice gesture from her _Shattered_ co-star, and all would be right in the world again.

He frowned at the half-empty glass, having switched to water after his third rye and Coke of the night had hit him particularly hard earlier. Yes, all was right in the world, wasn't it?

She leaned on the doorframe for a moment, spying on him before she made her way in. She was delightfully drunk, feeling warm all over and wearing a goofy smile on her face. He was sitting alone at the bar, not another soul in here, nursing a drink. He wore black trousers, a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck with no tie, and a blue blazer jacket. Understated, formal but not overly so, very Matthew. She could easily make out his broad shoulders and back, the way his clothes hugged his frame down to his hips, his firm rear that she knew so well. She covered her mouth to contain the giggles bubbling in her chest. It was so rare that she got the chance to ogle him for a change. She was going to enjoy this.

 _'Let loose, Mary…'_

They'd agreed that their arrangement was put on hold during filming. That was the professional thing to do. No sex while they were working together. No texting him late at night and going over to his place, dirty thoughts on her mind. No showing up on his doorstep and allowing him to ravish her for an hour or more. No taunting and teasing him, stirring his arousal until he put her on her knees, then took her hard and rough and made her scream. No, none of that.

 _'No commitments…'_

She could still remember when he pushed his way back into her life over two years ago now. He had unexpectedly found his way to Toronto, having landed a series of commercials for a car manufacturer, or something. It was Anna who told her he was here, of course. He wouldn't be the one to reach out to her, not after she'd left him to come to Canada. A few weeks later, she finally contacted him, suggesting they meet for tea. Just an innocent meeting, to be friends again. They could be friends, couldn't they? The last words they'd shared were full of anger and despondency, but it was years later and they could be mature adults about it all, she thought.

Tea was delightful, the two of them enjoying a proper English tradition in this strange new city. From there, they made it a regular appointment, visiting different hotel restaurants around the city and sampling Earl Grey, Sencha, scones and pastries at each. They went to the art gallery, the museum, walked all around the different neighbourhoods. It was easy and comfortable, and she thought they really could leave their history behind and move forward as friends.

Then came the night that changed everything.

She smiled as she looked at him now, seated at the bar, looking pensive as he took another sip of his drink. Her mind filled with the memory of his touch, his kiss, how they had both just lost control in his apartment. One minute they were watching a movie, sitting on the couch. She leaned her head on his shoulder. He slid his arm around her. They both turned towards each other at the same time, as if sensing what was about to happen.

It was like before, and yet so much more. More heated, more passionate, more wild, just more…messy.

It was amazing, and after a slight pause they went at it again, and yet again.

She bit her lip as her body remembered that first time, and all the moments since. She knew he thought it was the beginning of their reconciliation, but nothing had changed for her. Her ambition and career still took precedence, still was her priority, her sole focus. She couldn't let him into her heart again, couldn't let him distract her from having the life she wanted. It would only hurt him in the end to pick up with him again. If he wanted to have a part of her, it would be her body and nothing else.

Against his better judgment, and to her happy surprise, he agreed.

 _'You could use a good fuck, Mary...'_

She took a step into the room, her eyes wandering over his body again. Yes, they had agreed to no sex, but could he really resist her? Would he even want to? Surely they could have one night together and have it not mean anything? It would be a sort of interlude, something to tide them over until filming was done. What was the harm in that?

Besides, she had ways to convince him.

"Here you are! At last, I find you!" she exclaimed, coming over and putting her arm around his shoulders and kissing his cheek. "Thank you so much for coming!"

He turned and looked at her in confusion, momentarily shocked by her running up on him. He smiled and nodded, giving her a polite look.

"Mary," he said. "Congratulations. It's quite the party."

"And yet here you are, all by your lonesome," she teased, leaning in and pressing her breasts against his arm. "You should have come to find me. We could have danced!"

"You know that I don't dance," he said, laughing shakily.

"I seem to recall making you dance before, albeit that was more private, wasn't it?" she asked lightly, running her hand through his hair.

He smiled, shaking his head and sipping his drink.

"Why don't you come into the main room and you can buy me a drink, hmm?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him playfully.

"Actually, I was planning on leaving soon," he confessed, looking at her warily. "Erm, I've got an early start tomorrow, and should probably get to bed."

"You know what all work and no play did for Jack," she joked.

"You think I'm a dull boy, anyway, don't you?" he replied, meeting her stare. "Well, I did come out to play tonight, at least. You must admit that."

"You made an appearance, yes," she agreed. "As to whether you play or not, the jury's still out on that one."

He laughed and finished his drink.

"I'm sure you'll be fine without me. You have your cast mates and crew, your rabid admirers outside," he noted, leaning back from her slightly.

"Those people out there? The ones screaming my name? The ones asking for photographs and autographs and polygraphs?" she laughed, covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking at her own joke. She grew serious and eyed him closely. "What do you think they see? When they look at me? What do you think they see?"

He swallowed nervously, his lips parting, then coming together, then parting again as he weighed his words.

"A star," he said finally. "They see a star, someone so beautiful and magnetic that she doesn't seem to be from this world."

"A star," she said, as if tasting the word, then deciding she didn't like it. "And what is a star, Matthew?"

"A bright light, seemingly sent down from the Heavens," he whispered.

"A bright light," she repeated, nodding as she averted her eyes. "Destined to burn out and fade away long before anyone realizes it's gone."

He blinked and frowned as he watched her, and suddenly she seemed to shrink slightly, the glow of her skin turning pale.

"What do you see, Matthew?" she asked suddenly, and her eyes were on him, sharp once again. They probably never had been anything else. Wasn't he used to her eyes by now? He had seen them in so many expressions, and guises, and masks, but they were always sharp, sharp and focused, boring into him.

"What do you see when you look at me?" she asked, closing the distance between them, her eyes falling to his lips, then back up.

"Probably the same thing that any other red-blooded man does," he mumbled, trying to contain himself but finally giving in and looking down at her lips and lower to her cleavage.

"Someone you want to be with? Someone you want to have all to yourself?" she asked, her eyes bright. She moved closer, her lips brushing over his cheek and finding his ear. "Someone you want to…fuck?"

He turned his head, looking at her lips, then up to her eyes, holding her gaze without blinking.

Her pulse jumped, her senses filling with him, his blue eyes, his scent, his lips so close she could taste him. God, he could have her right on this bar if he wanted to, forget if anyone caught them.

"Someone who's out of my league," he said quietly, holding her gaze, then pulling back and getting up from his stool. The sudden distance between them left her cold. "Good night, Mary. Congratulations, once again."

He stepped back from the bar and turned, walking briskly out towards the back exit, heading through the door and not looking back.

She watched him disappear, blinking in surprise and shock. What had just happened? Did he really just leave her, walk away from her, just like that?

"Mary! Mary!" Catherine called from the doorway of the main room. "Mary, come on! There's someone you have to meet!"

Mary swallowed and cast one last look to the now closed exit door through which Matthew had disappeared. She then composed herself and threw on a brilliant grin before turning around and sashaying over to Catherine.

"Is he cute?" Mary asked, laughing as she went back into the party.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 2016**

"29…30…" Matthew grunted, finishing another set of push-ups, then lowered himself to the floor, his chest and arms burning as he grimaced and breathed heavily. He turned over on to his back, eyes closed, swallowing and gasping as he tried to steady his heart rate. He'd been at it for close to an hour now since he got home from the wrap party, starting out with stretches, then planks, and now push-ups and crunches. He debated walking over to the gym, but decided to just work out at home, trying desperately to drive himself to exhaustion.

As he started another set, he welcomed the ache in his muscles, hoping fatigue would set in and he could collapse into bed. Since leaving Mary at the restaurant, his mind had leapt back and forth, going over all that he'd said, all that she'd said, and his ultimate decision to turn her down. Numerous times during his angry walk home, he'd debated turning around and going back for her, or texting her and telling her to come over when she was finished. He had to turn off his phone halfway home to avoid temptation, and when he got back to his condo, he changed into a pair of shorts and started exercising.

Even as he focused on the movements, he saw her, hair curled loosely and floating about her shoulders, white halter dress with a neckline that swept down across the tops of her breasts and a hem that was well above her knees, high heeled shoes that made her legs look more toned and longer. With her every sultry word he pictured bringing her back here, to hell with being professional, throwing her into bed and not letting her leave until they were both sweaty and breathless.

He had stopped himself, but only just.

He grunted as he struggled through the last rep, his body finally telling him he had to stop. He picked himself up off the floor, gulping in air as he went to the kitchen and took a long drink of water. Frowning to himself, he shook his head as he shuffled to the bedroom. His body ached, but his mind was afire, the usual rush of a workout keeping him wide awake.

He stripped and headed into the bathroom, hoping a cold shower would do the job.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 2016**

Mary turned over, the duvet warm against her bare skin. Her eyes were half-closed as she snuggled against the pillow, looking out the window at the lights of the office buildings all around her building. She was still high from the party – the alcohol, the dancing, the laughs and good cheer – she hadn't had this much fun in quite a while, just letting go and enjoying the moment. She and Anna had a laughing fit the entire limo ride back to her building. She couldn't wait to see the photos. She was looking hot tonight, her dress, her shoes, her jewellery, hair and makeup, it had all come out perfectly.

Her hand wandered under the blanket and over her collarbone, her fingers tracing the curve of her breast. A smile crossed her lips. All of her worries were forgotten. Tonight, she was a star. Tonight, she had celebrated, and was celebrated. Tonight it was wonderful to be alive.

Her eyelids fluttered as her fingers ghosted over her breast, her touch gentle and light, warming her smooth skin. She closed her eyes, her free hand moving over her stomach, her manicured nails dipping beneath the waistband of her panties.

"Mmm," she hummed, her voice low and thick, her eyes closing as her touch grew firmer, more purposeful, knowing exactly where to press and just how hard.

A flash of images flew through her mind, her breathing growing ragged, her heartbeat racing. Powerful arms wrapped around her, firm chest against hers, defined abs, sculpted thighs and legs nudging hers apart, his arousal hard and thick as it claimed her.

She moaned out loud at the sensation of her fingers on her body and of him in her mind. His soft lips kissed her everywhere, his tongue tasting her, marking her. She pushed against him, matched the rhythm of his hips, until he moved faster, harder, rougher, overwhelming her and reducing her to whimpers and groans, taking all of him over and over, yielding to him, surrendering to the rapture as he took her deep. The strong and ceaseless thrusts of his hips showed her she was his to do with as he wanted, making her love it, crave it, drown in it.

Her eyes shot open, her back arched, her vision filled with the ceiling of her bedroom. Her fingers pinched and stroked and rubbed and pushed, and he was there with her, a dream, and yet somehow feeling so very real. Blond hair. Blue eyes. A predatory smile. She gasped, her skin flushing, heat spreading through her chest as the precipice beckoned. She heard his voice commanding her to let go, and she clamped her thighs together around her hand just as her release crashed in waves, his name flying from her lips as her body shook with pleasure.

"Matthew!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, May 2016**

She moaned out loud at the sensation of her fingers on her body and of him in her mind. His soft lips kissed her everywhere, his tongue tasting her, marking her. She pushed against him, matched the rhythm of his hips, until he moved faster, harder, rougher, overwhelming her and reducing her to whimpers and groans, taking all of him over and over, yielding to him, surrendering to the rapture as he took her deep. The strong and ceaseless thrusts of his hips showed her she was his to do with as he wanted, making her love it, crave it, drown in it.

Her eyes shot open, her back arched, her vision filled with the ceiling of her bedroom. Her fingers pinched and stroked and rubbed and pushed, and he was there with her, a dream, and yet somehow feeling so very real. Blond hair. Blue eyes. A predatory smile. She gasped, her skin flushing, heat spreading through her chest as the precipice beckoned. She heard his voice commanding her to let go, and she clamped her thighs together around her hand just as her release crashed in waves, his name flying from her lips as her body shook with pleasure.

"Matthew!"

 **Chapter 6:**

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, June 2016**

"I can teach you, if you want," Matthew said casually, putting his hand on the table next to her arm.

Mary turned her head quickly, surprised by his close proximity, standing just behind her. "What? Oh…pool? No, I…no, that's okay."

"Women play," he said, smiling at her. "I know a few girls who could hustle the pants off anyone in here, no shit."

She smiled and averted her eyes, tilting her head as she considered his words. "Do you, now?" she said softly.

"Yeah. Maybe you're one of them," he said, looking her up and down.

"Me?" she blurted out, touching the vee-neck of her shirt and laughing incredulously as she looked at him again. "No, I…I've played, but I'm not very good."

"Funny, that's exactly what a hustler would say," he noted, taking a swig of his beer. "Tell you what. One game, one drink. If you really aren't that good, then you won't lose any money. If you're hustling me though, then you'll be setting up everyone in here."

She arched her eyebrow and smirked at him. "How's that?"

"Because," he said intently, holding her gaze. "Everyone will be watching us, to see who submits to who, and whether they can get a piece of you."

Her lips parted and she swallowed a short breath before replying. "And you want the first shot at me, do you?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes resting on hers. "Maybe you'll enjoy it."

She rose from her chair and stepped towards the pool table, turning her head and looking back at him over her shoulder.

"Maybe I will," she said, biting her lower lip.

"Cut! Print it! Great job!" Thea called from her director's chair. "Wow, you guys are on fire! That's how you own a scene!"

Matthew smiled at the praise. He stepped back and reached out his hand to Mary.

She stared at his hand for a second, then took it as he helped her around the table and chairs, then let her go. They walked off the set, she accepting a bottle of water from Anna, he going over to the monitor to watch the video of their scene.

"Take twenty minutes!" Thea called. "We're going to shoot the pool scene when we come back."

Crew members moved in to remove some of the tables and chairs from the set and switch the lighting over to the pool table. The balls were arranged on the green felt and the cues were chalked and set aside.

"I like this angle here," Matthew said, pointing at the monitor. "It makes her look a bit small compared to him, don't you think?"

"Yeah," the cinematographer agreed. "We'll pan to your faces in the next shot, so the approach will establish that you're bigger than her, more imposing, then move to a close-up on the conversation."

"Are you going to frame both of us at the same time, or move from one to the other?" Mary asked, coming over to Matthew's side and looking at the monitor. He moved aside to give her more room, leaning on the back of the chair in front of him. She slipped around and stood in front of him for a better view.

"I think we'll focus on your face, Mary, to show how nervous you are at first. When the conversation gets more flirty, we'll frame both of you together to see how you get more comfortable," the cinematographer advised.

"What do you think?" Matthew asked her.

She turned her head, blinking at how his face was so close to hers. Her eyes fell to his lips without thinking, then moved quickly back to the monitor.

"I like it," she said quietly, taking a sip of water.

* * *

"For tomorrow, we'll film the breakup scene in the morning," Thea advised, walking with Mary and Matthew back to their trailers. "I know it's going to be emotional, so we'll be panning out as you get to the big blowup at the end. Your voices will still be heard, but it'll be a distance shot, so you won't need to worry about your expressions and posture and all of that. It will be just as poignant, I think."

"Right, that sounds good," Matthew said, nodding and glancing over at Mary for confirmation.

"I won't need to cry on command," she joked, smiling at him.

"Great. All right, see the two of you in the morning. And again, really great work. You've really been locked in from the beginning. I know yours isn't the main story in the movie, but your scenes have been fantastic so far. Keep it up," Thea said, nodding to them and heading off towards the post production booth.

"High praise," he noted, watching her leave.

"Well deserved," she stated. "We have been moving quickly. It seems we've been nailing everything in the first few takes, which is rare."

"I wouldn't know. Most of the projects I've filmed can't afford more than a few takes," he joked.

"You're playing in the top flight now, Matthew, better get used to it," she said, smiling at him. "Now, let's get something to eat. Shall we stay here or head back to the city?"

"Oh, well, actually, I've got to get going. I'm heading back downtown for a spin class," he explained.

"Ah," she said, nodding her head.

"It's just something I started a little while ago. Lavinia likes it so I've been tagging along," he said.

"Lavinia?" she questioned, arching her eyebrow. "The production assistant?"

"Yeah. She's into cycling, but gets a bit scared in traffic on the roads, so spinning is her happy compromise," he said. "It's a decent workout. Nothing like a true ride, but it gets the heart rate up, at least."

"How fun," she said tightly. "Well, enjoy your…spinning…"

"Heh…erm…have a good day, Mary," he said finally.

"Same to you," she said cheerfully, smiling and nodding to him, then heading off to her own trailer.

He watched her go, his brow furrowing slightly. When she turned a corner and left his view, he shook his head and moved off towards the spot he was scheduled to meet Lavinia.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 2016**

"Oh God, look at that," Anna said, shaking her head as she watched the news broadcast on the large television mounted on the wall. "That one house looks untouched, and the neighbour's is burned to the ground."

"It's crazy," Alex said, pulling her closer to him on the sofa. "The fire has spread so much that it's equal to all of Toronto and most of the surrounding area. Satellite photos show the smoke stretches all the way to Florida."

They watched as the camera followed a reporter as she toured the fire ravaged neighbourhood of the town of Fort McMurray in Western Canada. The disaster had resulted in massive evacuations of over 80,000 people last month. When the news of the emergency spread across the country, Anna and Alex donated a significant amount to the Red Cross in support of the displaced victims, but this was the first time the media was allowed into the town to show the evidence of the true damage of the blaze that was still raging in the wilds of the prairies.

"I can't even imagine what that must be like, losing everything like that, having to flee from your home, just grabbing whatever you can and going," she said.

"The insurance claims are going to be into the billions," he noted. "It's a warning to the rest of us though. Ultimately what's important is each other. Homes can be rebuilt, possessions replaced. It's a hard lesson, but true."

"I'd like to see you try and leave your precious autos behind, or your model collection, especially since you just had Lewis Hamilton sign that helmet," she said, looking at him pointedly. They had just come back from the Canadian Grand Prix Formula One race in Montreal, and as usual, Alex had gotten VIP paddock passes for them so they could roam about the restricted areas and watch all of the practice sessions, qualifying and the race from a suite near the Mercedes team garage. She had laughed quite thoroughly watching her normally calm and composed husband grin like a star struck teenager when meeting his favourite drivers and seeing the race cars up close.

"I wouldn't enjoy it, true. But I would leave them behind," he retorted. "All that matters to me is that you're with me. Everything else can be replaced, including a house, cars, money, whatever."

She smiled and kissed him softly. "You are so remarkably suave, you know that? You never miss an opportunity to say something so terribly sweet."

"It's funny how I seem to become more suave the more honest I am about how I feel about my wife," he said, chuckling as he kissed her more deeply. After enjoying her touch for several moments, he pulled back and took out his phone. "I forgot to show you the menu for the party."

She took his phone and went over the items listed on the screen, smiling at what he'd chosen.

"A pig roast?" she asked, smiling at him. "We're having a pig roast?"

"Not a whole pig. More like just under a half a pig, but I'm getting a smoker to handle it all," he said.

"Are you sure you can do this, babes?" she asked. "Maybe we should get a caterer?"

"Hey, don't disrespect a man's barbecue skill in his own house," he said firmly. "As long as everything is prepped in advance, the actual cooking will be easy."

"All right, if you say so," she answered sceptically. "Everything will be closed for the holiday, so if you botch it up, we'll starve."

"I'm not going to 'botch' it up!" he complained, using a fake English accent while he tickled her sides.

She laughed and took hold of his face, kissing him to stop his torment of her, and giving him other ideas on what to do with his hands.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, June 2016**

"I just…I can't…please, please try and understand…" Mary pleaded, covering her mouth with her hand as she sobbed perfectly on cue.

"I don't understand," Matthew said, blinking and swallowing to contain his tears. "If you can't be with me, fine. If you don't think we have a future, fine. But don't go back. Don't go back to him. You're better than that."

She lowered her gaze to the ground between them, her shoulders shaking. "You think I am, but I wonder. You really don't care what people think, but I'm afraid I do. Where would I go? What…who…would I be without him?"

"You'd be free, free to be anyone you wanted to be," he said quietly. "Succeed or fail, just the chance to live on your own terms is better than a lifetime of misery."

"Oh, Nico…" she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Life doesn't work that way, not for me."

"And cut!" Thea called from off-stage. The rain machines turned off and the downpour that was falling all around them ended. Crew members and makeup and hair people descended on Mary and Matthew, drying their faces, wringing out their hair and clothing and trying to restore them for the next take.

"Okay, you know what? This time we're going to keep the cameras on each of you," Thea explained, coming over to them, careful to avoid the puddles that had formed around them. "The emotion is perfect, not too over-the-top and not too subtle. I like it, but panning out as you get to the heart of the conversation doesn't seem right."

Mary blinked in surprise. "You want to focus on our faces?" she asked.

"Just to try it," Thea said. "The last take was good, so we can use that, but I just want to see how it plays when we keep your faces in the shot. It'll take us some time to reset the rigging, so just sit tight."

With that, the director went back to her chair, calling out orders as crew members scurried about.

"Shit," Mary muttered under her breath, looking down at the ground.

"What's wrong?" Matthew asked, looking at her with concern.

"I didn't think there'd be a closeup," she explained. "You heard her yesterday. She promised us that the final shot would be from a distance. I didn't prepare the scene as if it was a tight shot."

"That's all right," he said, nodding to encourage her. "You did great that last take. Just do it again and you'll be fine."

"No, you don't understand," she said, closing her eyes for a moment and shaking her head. "Tight shots require a completely different approach. You have to keep your body still and everything is conveyed through your face. I can't use my hands to show her desperation or shuffle my feet to show her nerves, and I can't just shake my head and sigh through the entire scene. It'll look horrible. Oh God, what am I going to do?"

"Mary, come on," he said, getting her attention. "Thea said the last take was fine, so this is just a trial, that's all."

"She wants this shot to be the one, otherwise she wouldn't have asked for it! She…" she stopped as a crew member ran past them, then lowered her voice. "She's testing to see if we can adapt on the fly. Maybe a producer put her up to it, I don't know, but this is a challenge, and she's trying to see if we can nail it, if we can adjust to a last second change. Trust me, I've seen it before. We're constantly being evaluated, every move scrutinized. If we mess this up, they'll hold it against us, against me, since I'm the one who is the emotional focus of the scene. Oh God...maybe I should have them postpone? Aunt Rosamund usually deals with the studio for me. I could..."

"Hey, hey," he said slowly, taking hold of her hands and drawing her gaze. "Forget about Thea. Forget about the producers, the studio execs, whoever. You're an actress, so, act. You can do this. If it takes you one take, five takes, ten takes, it doesn't matter. They'll wait until you're good and ready and satisfied with your performance. They wanted Mary Crawley, and that's who they've got. I'm right here. We'll get through this scene together. Now let's go and fucking crush this, all right?"

She took a deep breath and nodded her head, looking down and going over different strategies in her mind. She could tilt her head at a particular point to show Christina was debating with herself, and cringe a bit when Matthew said his line about her being better than going back to David. It wasn't perfect having no notice, but she could make it work.

"All right, ready on set?" Thea called from her chair.

Mary raised her head and looked at Matthew. He nodded to her. She nodded back.

"Ready!" she answered.

"Ready, mark, and…action!" Thea ordered.

* * *

"Thank you for earlier," Mary said as they came into her trailer. "I was having a bit of a meltdown, and you saved me from saying something rude, or even worse, doing something rash."

"I didn't suggest anything that you wouldn't have figured out yourself, eventually," Matthew said, the door closing behind him as he went over and sat down on the bench along one side. "I'm just glad we got through it. You were brilliant, just as I knew you would be."

"I wouldn't say that. I was a bit of a mess," Mary admitted, handing him a bottle of water from the fridge, then sitting down on her bed. "I suppose that may have helped in the end, since I was playing a woman falling apart anyway."

He laughed and shook his head, opening the bottle and taking a sip.

She smirked as she regarded him. "Well, thank you, Matthew, honestly. You really had my back out there, and I appreciate it."

"Of course. Always," he replied, nodding his head.

She smiled and looked down at the carpet. "I must admit, you've been pleasantly surprising through all of this. I didn't know what to expect from you and you've not only been a complete professional, but all of your interpretations of Nico have been spot on, in my view."

"Don't sound so surprised," he said wryly. "Is it so shocking to you that I can play a man luring a married woman into an affair?"

"Truly? Yes," she remarked. "Nico seems to be too...unprincipled for your taste. The entire story of the film seems rather unlike you."

"We're actors, Mary," he said patiently. "It's not as though we only look for roles that represent who we are. It's actually more often the opposite, I think."

"Yes, but we take a piece of every character with us in our careers, I'd say. Are you sure you want to let Nico in?" she teased.

"What about you and Christina?" he retorted. "I would think she's far too weak to appeal to you."

"Oh, I don't know," she said candidly. "She's growing on me. I don't think she's actually as much of a victim as she seems. Her supposedly perfect marriage falls apart on her, and she realizes her life is not at all what she thought it was. Even the strongest person - man or woman - would have a hard time going through that as though nothing was amiss. Having an affair is messy, and complicated, and not at all something she ever thought she would do. I'm actually really enjoying playing her, going through all the emotions and the way she questions all that she knows. She's deciding to live in the moment, and not be so beholden to expectation and what others expect of her. I may not agree with her decisions, but the attitude is quite appealing, wouldn't you say?"

"There is something admirable in a person who can live in the now and not be concerned about the consequences of her actions," he agreed. "I guess that's why I do like the story. All four of the characters have redeeming qualities to them. No one is an outright villain, regardless of how the audience may see them. They're all coping with their circumstances, doing what they can."

"Goodness, am I hearing this right? Matthew Crawley, a pragmatist?" she joked, arching her eyebrow at him.

"Just because I can understand a character's thought process doesn't mean I can relate, or that I would do the same thing," he said, chuckling and taking another sip of water.

She looked at him pointedly, a smile on her lips. "So you're saying that if you desired a woman as strongly as Nico does, the fact that she was married would be a non-starter for you?"

He considered her question for a moment, then slowly got up from the bench, the change in height meaning he was now looking down on her, forcing her to raise her head to meet his eyes. He seemed larger to her, somehow, as though the small confines of the trailer made him more imposing, his presence more captivating.

"Hypothetically, yes," he replied, giving her a raised eyebrow of his own. "But I suppose there could be an exception for the right woman."

She blinked in surprise. "Well, that doesn't sound like the Matthew Crawley I know. I thought everything was always so black and white with you."

He smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. "I suppose life has a way of teaching one the difference between what's important and what's not, and that perhaps not everything is an all-or-nothing proposition."

His eyes found hers. "Good night, Mary."

"Good night," she said, swallowing as he turned away from her and made his way out the door. Belatedly, she realized that her pulse had quickened. Frowning to herself, she took a sip of water and grabbed her script.

 **Tommy Thompson Park, Leslie Street Spit, Waterfront, Toronto, Canada, June 2016**

Natalie and Mary took quick, short breaths as they ran, their strides in near-perfect step. They followed the shoreline back up to the road and turned on to the sidewalk. They usually spoke at the beginning of the run, but grew progressively more silent as they approached the end. After twenty minutes, a signpost drew closer on their right, the agreed upon marker where they would begin the sprint over the final few hundred metres to the finish back at the studio. They both accelerated as they passed the sign, taking longer strides and pumping their arms in rhythm. Mary edged ahead, maintaining her gait until they passed the fence bordering the studio. She let out a long gasp as she slowed down, lifting her sunglasses and wiping her face. Reaching to her hip, she stopped the timer on the fitness app on her phone and cast a glance at the numbers measuring calories burnt, heart rate and average speed.

"Phew! Oh...shit..." Natalie groaned, gasping for breath as she came in shortly behind and slowed down to a walk, hands on her hips. The sun shone down on the pavement as they headed inside. "That's fucking hot."

"Thank God for the breeze off the lake," Mary agreed, finishing the last of her water bottle. "I think a run like that deserves some time in the spa."

Natalie laughed and nodded eagerly. "If only. Not as though you need it. 10 kilometres in this heat and you still look gorgeous."

"You're very kind, and a very bad liar," Mary said, smiling at her.

"Anyway, I'm afraid that I've got just enough time for a quick shower before heading over to wardrobe," Natalie said regretfully.

"A fitting for a scene?" Mary asked lightly.

Natalie nodded and grinned. "Trying on silky underthings for my love scenes."

Mary laughed and shook her head. "How delightfully filthy."

"One of the producers told me that I could wear my own if I wanted. Could you imagine? Yes, I'm sure that would go over quite well...having Rick tear off the bra that I got for Valentine's," Natalie joked.

"Well, hopefully there's something decent in the lot," Mary said sympathetically. "I ended up just shopping for mine on _Paladin_ because the selection they had was such utter rubbish, to say nothing for how horrible the fit was."

"Wish me luck! Thanks for the run. Are we going again tomorrow?" Natalie asked as they walked back into the studio.

"In the morning," Mary confirmed. "Anna will be back with us, as well. Luck!"

"Perfect. Cheers," Natalie said, waving before heading off to her trailer.

Mary smiled back and turned for her own trailer. Anna was dealing with a bunch of nonsense this morning, scheduling interviews with foreign media for _Paladin_ promos, and Mary had to get out and get away. Smiling and looking pretty while she answered the same questions over and over was part of her job, but dealing with the minutiae - where, when, how long, and so forth - well, she was grateful for Anna to handle all of that.

When she was about to turn for her trailer, she stopped and reconsidered. She wasn't due back on set for over an hour, giving her a bit of free time. Rather than heading back to hers, she went the other way towards Matthew's trailer instead.

She smiled as she drew closer, wondering just what he would think of her appearance. The run had left her a bit sweaty, but her fitted shorts and sports bra would make quite the impression upon him, she was sure. They weren't scheduled to film their kisses and love scenes until next month, but why not give him a bit of a peek now? She'd be wearing less for those scenes, anyway, and there was something fun about seeing his eyes go wide and how flustered he got when he ogled her and tried to make it seem as though he wasn't ogling her. It was sweet, and a nice boost to her ego.

Her playful thoughts were interrupted as she looked up and saw the door of Matthew's trailer open and Lavinia emerge, a rather smug smile on her face. The two women noticed each other within moments, and Lavinia blinked in surprise, then smiled politely.

"Hi, Mary," she said pleasantly, glancing at her outfit for a moment. "Come to see Matthew?"

"Yes," Mary replied, recovering to put an even expression on her face. "I take it he's inside?"

"Oh, yes," Lavinia confirmed, smiling and nodding her head as though she was thinking of a funny joke. "I'm sure you can just go on in. He's in the shower. Bye."

Lavinia walked past her and was on her way before she could see Mary's eyes widen and her mouth fall open in shock.

Mary frowned, then paused as she looked up at the door to Matthew's trailer, then back in the direction that Lavinia had gone. Shaking her head in disbelief, she elected to head back to her own trailer after all.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, June 2016**

"What do you know about that production assistant?" Mary asked casually, her eyes still focused on her phone screen. She and Anna were in her trailer for the mid-morning break while they set up the next scene with her and Rick. During her breaks, she usually spent time with Matthew discussing the next scene, but he wasn't due on set until the afternoon. She hadn't asked him about seeing Lavinia leave his trailer days ago, and hadn't seen the two of them together since either, but her curiosity was eating at her all the while.

"Which production assistant? There's a legion of them," Anna replied, looking up from her tablet.

"The ginger, Lavinia," Mary replied. "You've met her, haven't you?"

"She was at the auditions," Anna confirmed, nodding her head. "She's very nice, pleasant, easy going, gets along with everybody and appears to be hard working. What more could you want in a production assistant?"

"Yes, of course," Mary said. "But what about outside of work? I've heard she's a bit of a fitness nut."

"Who did you hear that from? And even if it's true, what of it?" Anna asked in confusion. "She's not from Toronto, I know that. The studio sent her here specifically to help with this film, so she must do good work. They don't just do that with anyone."

"What about a significant other? Boyfriend? Husband?" Mary asked.

"How would I possibly know that? And why would I?" Anna asked, completely perplexed. "She's not wearing a wedding ring, so she's not married, unless she's one of those women who doesn't bother wearing her rings."

"I can't stand women who do that, and I doubt she'd would, anyway. She doesn't strike me as the type," Mary noted.

"What's so noteworthy about Lavinia Swire?" Anna asked, again trying to understand what Mary was on about. "Did you have an incident with her? Do you two not get along?"

"No, no, it's not that," Mary said, shaking her head. "We've said maybe five words to each other the entire production. I just wondered about her, that's all. She's obviously a Brit, and as you say, it seems she's thought rather highly of, so I just wondered what her story was, is all."

"I'll see what I can find out," Anna said, looking at her friend curiously.

"Oh, it's not important. Don't trouble yourself," Mary said lightly, waving her hand and going back to looking at her phone.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 2016**

Matthew swallowed, trying to keep his posture, sitting back in the leather bench seat of the Mercedes, his arms at his sides. The streetlights crawled past as the driver made his way down the empty road, even Toronto's notorious traffic quieted at this late hour. They had been shooting well past midnight when Thea finally released them. As usual, he and Mary shared a car for the short trip back to downtown, the studio keeping a driver at the ready whenever they went well into the night. The moment they were inside the back of the sedan and had their seatbelts buckled, she dozed off, her head falling onto his shoulder, her body leaning against his.

He took shallow breaths, careful not to move or make any noise that might wake her. She'd had a longer day than him, doing scenes with Rick in the morning and scenes with him in the afternoon and evening. Filming a movie was a tedious process, and not at all glamorous. It involved a lot of waiting around while equipment was set up and moved. They spent hours on the same scene, with no guarantee that it wouldn't end up deleted from the final cut by the end of it. Still, he was enjoying it all immensely, the past three weeks being the most fun he'd had working in quite some time.

Something about that breakup in the rain scene that he and Mary had filmed near the beginning had inspired them, it seemed. From that day on, they were up for anything. Whatever Thea suggested, they jumped on it with relish. Mary was fearless, almost daring the director to give her a new task to sink her teeth into each day. Her enthusiasm mirrored his own, and the two of them together seemed to have boundless energy.

Even when they made mistakes, such as when his natural accent would creep into his dialogue, or when she was supposed to slap him and ended up actually making contact instead of hitting the air, they would burst out into a roar of laughter and get right back to work. They'd developed an easiness, a comfort level that was different from their personal life. There was a growing trust between them, as if each of them knew the other was going to be dependable and reliable no matter what the scene called for.

He turned his head and dared to breathe in her scent, her hair still smelling like mango extract and rainwater or whatever her expensive organic shampoo was supposed to make her smell like. He felt like putting his arm around her and falling asleep himself. It would be so easy. She was right here. Instead, he watched her dozing for a bit, then looked straight ahead, the tall condo towers and bank buildings nearing as their all-too brief ride was coming to an end.

* * *

Mary smiled as she leaned into him, the drone of the engine and the warmth of his body relaxing her wonderfully. There was a flutter in her chest and a satisfying ache in her legs, the rewards of a good day's work. Nearly a month into filming and she didn't care anymore that she wasn't playing Sidney, didn't feel jealous or resentful towards Thea and the producers for not choosing her for the lead. She and Natalie got on great, and she found she was so wrapped up in playing Christina that she couldn't be bothered to bemoan anything she'd supposedly missed out on.

Her hand was resting on his chest. It would be so easy for her to move her fingers beneath his shirt and feel the muscles hidden there, easier still to reach between his legs and fondle him. Would he deny her yet again? He might put up token resistance, might be embarrassed with the driver able to see them in the rear view mirror, but if she asked him, begged him for it, he'd give in this time, wouldn't he? He loved hearing her beg. Would he mention Lavinia? So far, he hadn't said anything about her, hadn't even brought her up in conversation. If he wasn't going to acknowledge whatever she was to him, then Mary had no obligation to respect it either, she reasoned.

There was a palpable electricity between her and Matthew, even different from anything they'd shared before. She noticed it ever since they started filming. At first, she thought it was just the usual excitement and camaraderie over starting a new project, but here they were weeks into it and having an absolute blast. Their preparation and rehearsal sessions were easy and productive, all of their takes in front of the cameras of a high calibre, even when they were just doing run-throughs. She felt a real sense of pride when they got it right, so different from when she did a scene with Henry, by contrast, which was more about just getting things done and over with. With Matthew, it was as though they both knew when they did their best work and when they didn't. There were times when one of them would ask to run a scene again, even when Thea thought they had a decent enough take to print already, and the other would agree completely.

Seeing him at work, so committed and disciplined, so professional, it was as though she were learning him anew, and she quite liked who she was discovering in him.

"We're here, Lady Mary," the driver called, and she sat up suddenly, blinking to wake herself up as she found they were parked at the entrance to her building, the driver already coming around to open her door.

"Good night," Matthew said, nodding to her.

She looked at him briefly, then smiled and nodded back before getting out of the car and going straight to the elevator.

He watched her disappear, then looked out the window at nothing in particular as the driver took him to his apartment.

* * *

She threw her keys on the side table and kicked her shoes off in the foyer, walking down the hallway to her bedroom. Her firm mattress and soft pillows and duvet beckoned her like an oasis as she slowly removed her clothes, debating with herself as to whether she should shower now or just go straight to bed and shower in the morning, or whenever she woke up, anyway. Removing her bra, she exhaled in relief, and was about to head for the bathroom when she remembered she had to turn on her phone again and set the alarm. The phone stayed off when she was on set, and lately she'd gotten into the habit of just leaving it in her trailer. The time between shoots was better spent preparing with Matthew, speaking to Anna or squeezing in a light kip if she could. All the accumulated emails, texts, voicemails and missed calls could wait until she was done work for the day, plus it was easier to avoid playing mobile games for hours on end if her phone wasn't within easy reach.

As her phone screen lit up, the familiar buzz warned her of everything she'd missed while at the studio. As she went to review her texts, she blinked in surprise as her sister's face popped up on the call display and her assigned ringtone played. Mary frowned and answered the call quickly.

"Hello? Edith?" she said. "Why are you calling me so early? It's barely past six over there."

"Oh, Mary, thank God I've reached you," Edith replied shakily. "I've been calling you all night but I expected you were working."

"I was. I just got in. Why didn't you ring Anna?" Mary asked.

"I wanted to speak to you directly, and nothing against her, but it's a private matter," Edith answered, her voice steadying.

"What? What's wrong?" Mary asked suspiciously.

"Mum and Dad told me not to tell you, but I don't think they're right. You ought to know…" Edith continued,

"What are you on about? Edith, what is it?" Mary demanded, her chest tightening with worry.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 2016**

Matthew leaned on the rails of the terrace, looking out at the hotel across the street, fancy sports cars and expensive luxury automobiles stopping at the valet station, dropping off their beautiful passengers and continuing on their way. It had been ages since he last drove a car. He and Alex had done a road trip when he first moved over here, going on a bit of a tour of Niagara wine country, just a couple of hours to the southwest. They had taken Alex's Ferrari, and his friend graciously let him have a turn behind the wheel on the rural roads. Since then he'd walked, biked, taken transit or cabs to get around. He missed driving a proper car, but didn't know how much until recently.

He couldn't get Mary off his mind. They had grown so close lately, working side-by-side each day and never seeming to tire of each other. They weren't on the call sheet for most of next week, and he imagined taking her out to visit some of the smaller towns outside the city, finding an antique shop to browse through, or a quaint family diner or bakery. There was a Canadian version of Stratford-upon-Avon about two hours from here, complete with its own Avon river and Shakespearean theatre. The weather these days was fantastic, all brilliant sunshine and blue skies. Maybe he could borrow one of Alex's cars and suggest they take a drive?

"Come on, Matthew, wake the fuck up," he snarled, shaking his head.

What was he thinking? He was doing it again, getting carried away and making assumptions about feelings and a connection that wasn't as deep as he thought it was. They were professionals, doing brilliant work together, yes, but that was it. Their association ended with the end of each shooting day. They were colleagues, nothing more, and there was no point hoping for more. Yes, they got along, laughed together, even flirted a bit, but that was just them getting caught up in the creative and friendly mood of the set, the ease with which they worked together. Mary acted the same way with other co-stars, surely. She was even more friendly and touchy-feely with Henry, he knew that.

He had to quit mistaking kindness for attraction, quit assuming she might feel what he felt, quit believing that just because their shared lust had never waned, they could build anything meaningful on such a shaky foundation.

He sighed and straightened up, turning and going back into the apartment. Scratching the back of his neck, he headed for the bedroom. A few hours' sleep was just what he needed to forget these stupid dreams and return to real life. Removing his shirt, he looked up at the sound of the phone ringing. Frowning in surprise, he went over to his nightstand and picked it up. Who could possibly be calling him at 1 in the morning?

"Sybil?" he said incredulously, seeing her photo on his phone call display and answering the call with concern. "What's wrong? Why are you calling me so late? Is everything all right?"

"Oh, Matthew, no, no everything isn't all right at all," Sybil said, sniffling a bit. "We're flying back to England in the morning. I've been running around packing all night, I just can't sit still."

"You're flying back home? What? Why? What's going on?" he asked, frowning in confusion.

"I talked to Edith tonight. She was going to call Mary. It's Granny, Matthew. She…she's not doing very well, it seems. They say it's serious. I had no idea. They didn't want to alarm us, of all things. Typical Mum and Dad. Can...can you make it out in the morning? I think you should be there. I know your mother would want you there, even if she's probably too stubborn to ask you herself."

Matthew sat down on the bed, the news taking the strength from his legs.

"I'll get out as soon as I can," he promised. "What did Edith say? What do you know?"

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, June 2016**

Mary looked out the window forlornly as the car wound its way along the country roads she'd travelled countless times since she was a child. Summer in Yorkshire still meant lush trees, rolling green fields that stretched to the horizon, and endless blue skies. She passed ancient stone fences that she and her sisters had walked along in their youth, farms that had once belonged to her ancestors, and the quaint buildings of Downton Village, seemingly unchanged through the ages. Summer was always so warm and refreshing, but seeing it now, it just seemed all grey to her.

She closed her eyes, her head dropping. Granny was gravely sick, Edith said. How was this possible? For as long as she could remember, Violet Crawley was the strongest woman she knew. Elegant and graceful, she represented an era that Mary wished she had been born in. Her tongue was almost as sharp as her mind, and yet she did have her tender moments in private, usually when she was trying to impart some knowledge to Mary and her sisters. To this day, she was the only person Mary knew that could put her Mum and Dad in their place with a mere pointed look or clever barb, and despite being retired for decades, her advice on the entertainment business was still spot on.

Granny was one of the biggest stars of British cinema back in the 1950's. She won two Oscars for Best Actress, and despite repeated calls for her to move permanently to America to further her career, she decided to stay in England. Dad was born during the height of her popularity, and Aunt Rosamund shortly after that. She appeared in numerous acclaimed theatre productions on the West End after having children, but rather than capitalize on her popularity, she retired abruptly to focus on raising her family and running her household. When Grandad passed away, she took control of Downton Abbey, mentoring Dad until he could properly assume his title as Earl of Grantham. She was seen as the English Grace Kelly in a way, though Granny often would point out that she would never have retired just to marry a Prince, and that her career was far more esteemed than that of the Princess of Monaco, as she then was. In many ways, Mary held Granny's advice in higher regard than that of her own mother, an accomplished actress herself, and her aunt, who was her long-time agent. Granny was direct and didn't sugarcoat anything, and her sometimes brutal honesty was most welcome in an industry full of sycophants and schemers.

Granny couldn't be dying. The very thought was unfathomable.

The towers of Downton Abbey rose in the distance, the big house still looking grand and full of splendour, the family banner still flying from its highest spire. Over the years, more and more of the house and lands had been opened to the public, the revenues from tours, weddings and events helping with the annual maintenance costs. Back in the early 20th century, Mary's family owned vast lands across the county, numerous homes in Yorkshire and London, and the Earl of Grantham sat in the House of Lords. Parts of the estate, including the other homes, had been sold off over the decades to help pay for mounting taxes and expenses, and recover from two Great Wars. Granny and Dad fought to ensure their way of life continued, if only in part, while other aristocratic families fell all around them in ruin. Though she didn't use her title professionally, Mary took great pride in being Lady Mary Crawley, and carrying on her family heritage in a way. Though she and Sybil had left England years ago, this place would always feel like home.

Except today, when dread filled her the closer she got to the majestic front entrance.

The car passed the public car park and came around to the private courtyard used by her family. Carson stood at attention awaiting her arrival, the old butler standing with perfect posture, wearing the stoic expression that Mary loved so much. The car came to a stop, the driver getting out and holding her door open for her as Carson stepped forward. She still felt apprehensive about being here, but she couldn't help but give him a warm smile when she emerged.

"My Lady," Carson said, bowing his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Carson," she said warmly, smiling and reaching out to pat his arm affectionately. "Hello. It is always so very good to see you."

"Your return is always cause for celebration, my Lady," he said, walking with her into the house as a footman retrieved her luggage. "My deepest apologies over the circumstances this time, however."

"How is she, Carson, truly? Spare no detail, please," she pleaded. She and Carson always had a special rapport that went beyond that of employer and servant. The butler had been a father figure to her growing up when Dad was always away on business and Mum was working on her show. For his part, Carson seemed to favour her more than he did her sisters, and seemed to follow her career with particular interest.

"Her Ladyship is a fighter, my Lady," he said firmly, his voice full of hope and conviction. "But I do think that your return, and that of Lady Sybil, can only help."

"Have Sybil and Tom arrived, then?" she asked, as they came into the Great Hall, as polished and impressive as Mary remembered it.

"Mr. Branson is out walking with His Lordship. Lady Sybil is upstairs with your mother and Lady Edith. Your rooms are ready for you, my Lady. I'll have your luggage brought up while you go and see them," he said crisply.

"Thank you, Carson," she said genuinely. "I'll come down and see you and the others after I've gotten settled."

"Of course, my Lady," he said, bowing his head and standing by as she went up the grand staircase to the second floor and the Family Wing.

* * *

"Are you a special guest, or a member of the family, then?" the cab driver asked jovially as he turned off the country road and went up the paved drive towards the big house.

"A guest," Matthew replied distractedly, staring out the window at Downton Abbey.

"Is there a right do going on, then?" the driver asked. "Word was that the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge were up here a few weeks ago. I drove a bunch of posh fellows from the train station to the house. The whole weekend was busy, in fact. Just glorious."

"No," Matthew said curtly. "No party this time."

He looked away from the house over the perfectly manicured lawns and vibrant fields. There were cars in the public parking lot and he could make out families taking picnics across the grounds. It was surreal seeing complete strangers wandering across the lands that he had played on as a child, but he respected Robert for doing what needed to be done so that the family could keep the home and continue the Earldom. Matthew wasn't one for the ancient traditions and reverence for the peerage and gentry that Mary's family still believed in, but this place was still full of mostly happy memories for him, and he was glad Downton Abbey still stood, and that the Crawleys were still in it.

"Here you are, Guvnor, Downton Abbey," the driver proclaimed. Matthew paid the man, grabbed his carry-on and suit bag and got out. The taxi pulled away before he reached the door, and he hesitated, taking a deep breath before ringing the bell. He wasn't sure what he would find inside, or what the reaction to his arrival would be. They would receive him warmly, of course, but as this was no happy occasion, he didn't feel overly pleased to be here. For the first time in years, he wasn't entirely sure he even wanted to be.

* * *

"Her Alzheimer's has gotten progressively worse the past few months," Cora explained, her voice soft, but steady as her three daughters gathered in her bedroom. Edith had already revealed to their parents that she had summoned Mary and Sybil back home to see Granny, and Robert and Cora had to come clean when they arrived.

"At first, she would forget things - names of her friends, places she'd been dozens of times, even major events like charity dinners she'd hosted for years. Dr. Clarkson changed her medication and that helped for a little while, but then she started having more bad days than good. She'd stay in bed and not bother coming down, just relying on Isobel and the nurses to help her and keep her company. We started limiting her calendar, picking a few important functions for her to attend and getting her prepared weeks in advance so she had enough energy to get through the evening. Some days, it's like she's her old self, going on long walks with Isobel like she used to, even touring her rose garden. Most days though, she's barely able to maintain a conversation for long, and on her really bad days, well, it's as though she doesn't know who she is, or who we are."

Mary looked away, scowling and pursing her lips to rein in her reaction. Sybil just shook her head. Edith, who was far more used to this than they were, just stood by and watched.

"We always tried to have her call each of you when we were sure that she was feeling up to it," Cora continued. "That's why it would take days for her to return your messages. We didn't want you to hear her when…when she didn't know who you were."

"What does Dr. Clarkson say about her prognosis?" Sybil asked, her voice wavering.

Mary closed her eyes. They all knew what the stages of Alzheimer's Disease was. They just didn't think that Granny would progress through it so quickly.

"Dr. Clarkson believes that she isn't at the end stage yet," Cora replied. "She can still get around when she has enough energy. It's mostly her memory that's failing at the moment. However…"

"However he believes that Granny could deteriorate rapidly," Edith finished when Cora's voice wavered. "That's why I called you back now, so you can still see her, and she you, when she's still partly herself."

"I want a second opinion," Mary declared. "A specialist. Someone from London, Canada even. There are world renowned doctors in Toronto studying brain function. Sybil, you should know someone in New York, surely?"

"Mary…" Cora said, shaking her head.

"We've brought in several doctors from London to examine her, against her wishes," Edith said diplomatically. "They're all in agreement with Dr. Clarkson. It could be months, maybe a year, maybe less, but they all feel it's just a matter of time now."

Mary opened her mouth to retort, then stopped and looked away, crossing her arms over her front.

"Beg pardon, Your Ladyship," Carson called, knocking on the open door lightly.

"Yes, Carson?" Cora said politely, grateful for the interruption.

"Mr. Crawley is here. I had his luggage brought to his old room in the Bachelor's Wing. He's down in the library with His Lordship and Mr. Branson," Carson said.

Mary's eyes widened and she looked at her mother in shock.

"Thank you, Carson," Cora said, nodding her head before turning to look at Mary. The butler bowed and retreated, closing the door in anticipation of what was to come.

"What is Matthew doing here?" Mary demanded, looking from her mother to Edith. "How did he know?"

"I called him," Sybil said. "I knew that Isobel wouldn't, and he ought to be here."

"Why?" Mary asked, her arms falling to her sides, her hands closing into fists. "If his own mother didn't ask him here, what business is this of his? He's not family."

"I didn't invite him, but I'm glad he's here. You know that your Granny adores Matthew. They're still close," Cora said.

"They're friends," Mary corrected her. "Are we inviting all of Granny's friends up for the weekend? No. So what makes him so special?"

"You really shouldn't be so dismissive of Matthew," Cora said, shaking her head. "We're lucky that he's here."

"Why is that, exactly?" Mary asked.

"Because we may need him," Cora replied.

Edith share a concerned glance with her mother.

"What are you talking about? What is it? Edith?" Mary asked, glaring at her sister.

"Granny's memory comes and goes, as we said," Edith said carefully. "I called you back here so that you'd have a chance to visit with her, and hopefully lift her spirits."

"Yes, so you've said, and what does that have to do with Matthew being here, or our needing him, apparently?" Mary asked, her frustration mounting.

"Your Granny becomes confused quite easily," Cora said. "She gets rather mixed up, as if all of her memories have been thrown together. She doesn't always know what day, month, or even what year it is."

Mary frowned. "Go on."

"Lately, when she's been coherent and somewhat lucid, she seems to be stuck in 2010, or 2008. It varies," Edith stated. "We stopped trying to correct her, and just go with it when we can. Whatever makes her happy and avoids her getting upset is the important thing."

Mary's mouth fell open.

"But that would mean…" Sybil began.

"She thinks that Matthew and I are still a couple?" Mary exclaimed in disbelief. "That's why you're glad he's here, Mum? You want…you want us to join in on this charade?"

"You don't need to do anything," Cora said cautiously. "But it wouldn't be the worst thing if you didn't correct your Granny's impression that you and Matthew are still happily together. She asks about him, asks whether he's taking care of you, making you happy. We tell her that the two of you are working very hard and are doing very well."

"I don't believe this," Mary said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"What about me and Tom?" Sybil asked.

"She doesn't really ask about Tom, but we're relatively certain she remembers that you're married," Edith noted. "We don't think it will shock her to see the two of you together, anyway."

"But if I were to arrive without Matthew at my side, she'd wonder what was going on, or at the very least ask me about him," Mary grumbled. "Oh, God."

"Mary, we were going to make do without him, but this is so much better, and it's only for a few days," Cora said. "When you see her, when you see the way she is now, I believe you'll find it's the absolute smallest sacrifice you could make to give her some moments of comfort."

"And what about Matthew? Does he know about the role he's to play in all this?" Mary asked coldly.

"I didn't tell him. I didn't even know until just now," Sybil said.

"He doesn't know," Edith confirmed. "But can you honestly say that he'd be against the idea if it was put to him?"

Mary sighed and averted her eyes. "Let's go and see her."

She and her sisters left their mother's bedroom and made their way down the hall.

* * *

Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham, was an Englishman to a fault – intensely patriotic, still loyal to the Monarchy, suspicious of anything that wasn't English, let alone British, and always stoic and reserved. For all these reasons, Matthew was stunned silent when the Earl came into the library with Tom and his faithful dog, Tiaa, saw Matthew, and immediately pulled him into an immense bear hug, probably the only time he had ever hugged him in all the years that he knew him.

"My boy, my very dear boy, thank you so much for coming. I didn't want to bother you with this, and I know that Edith and Sybil gave you such very short notice, but thank you," Robert said, finally releasing Matthew, though he kept hold of his shoulders. "You are looking well."

"Robert," Matthew managed, smiling and nodding, the Earl finally letting go of him. "I only wish there was a better reason for my visit. How is she?"

"Not good, I'm afraid,' Robert said, sighing and going over to the bar to pour himself a drink.

Matthew shook Tom's hand in greeting, the two of them sharing a concerned look as the Earl took a long sip and came back to them.

"She's a shadow of herself, sadly," Robert continued. "Dr. Clarkson and Edith felt it prudent to call Mary and Sybil back now so they could at least visit with her and have a decent chat while she's still aware of what's going on around her. He's not so sure she'll be able to in a few months' time, even."

"I should go and see Mother," Matthew said. "Has she even left her side?"

"No, and she threatened to have me drawn and quartered the next time I so much as suggested to her that she get some rest," Robert said, smiling sadly at the thought. "I told Mrs. Hughes to let Isobel know you'd arrived. Probably better that you stay down here for now, Matthew. It'll be a lot for Mama to adjust to already with the girls being back."

"Of course," Matthew said, nodding his head solemnly.

"Why don't we go downstairs and say hello?" Tom suggested. "They'll come and find us when they need us."

"Yes, yes, go on, the both of you," Robert said, sitting down wearily on the sofa. "It'll be a while until you're needed, I expect.

The two men were about to take their leave when all three of them looked up as Sybil and Edith came in.

"Matthew," Edith said gratefully, coming over and exchanging kisses with him, hugging him tight. "Thank you for coming."

"Edith," he replied, nodding to her as pleasantly as he could muster.

"Matthew and I were just going to drop in downstairs to say hello," Tom said as Sybil greeted Matthew.

"Right, well, there's something very important that we wanted to talk to you about first," Sybil said to Matthew.

"What is it?" Matthew asked, eyeing Sybil and Edith in confusion.

* * *

Mary looked out past the Greek temple and to the grove of trees in the far distance. A light breeze swirled around her, rustling the branches of the old oak tree towering above. These lands had been her playground for so many years. She rode her horse everywhere there was to go, walked over to the cricket field for annual matches between the House and the Village teams, played tennis on the grass courts, put on plays and concerts in the gazebo, and helped her Mum host numerous parties on the lawn behind the rose garden. She almost loved the outdoors of her family home more than she did the house itself. Good weather in Yorkshire was rare, it seemed. Rain and overcast, cloudy skies being more common, anytime the sun shone, she was outside. She'd learned every inch of this place growing up, loved it all, but now, she almost dreaded staying another minute here.

She rubbed her hands, then brought them back to rest on her lap, the old bench she'd used as a refuge her entire life feeling rather hard and uncomfortable beneath her. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she looked out to the meadows once again, feeling numb.

"Who sent you?" she asked softly, not bothering to turn her head.

"No one," Matthew replied, coming over and sitting down next to her. "When Sybil told me that you all went up to visit with Violet, I knew you'd come out here afterwards. The house is big, but I'm sure it doesn't feel big enough to you at the moment."

She sniffed at the accuracy of his comment, nodding her head slightly as she continued to look vacantly into the distance.

"How is she?" he asked quietly. "I didn't want to ask Mother."

She didn't answer for several moments. He waited patiently, his eyes on her.

"She sounds fine," she answered finally, her voice soft. "She looks at you as though she knows who you are, she talks with the same crisp voice, the same mannerisms, everything. Anyone would think that she was feeling perfectly normal."

"But not you," he finished.

She swallowed and let out a long breath.

"She knows who I am. She knows Sybil, and Edith, and your mother, everyone. She doesn't sound weak, or overly tired. It's her eyes. There's something missing. It's as though she sees me, but her mind is lacking some vital information and she can't figure out what it is. She asked me how I was, what I was up to, but she had no idea I had moved to Toronto, and she asked how you were doing," she recalled.

He nodded in understanding.

"You know, when I first talked to her, I thought that it wasn't nearly as bad as Mum and Edith made it out to be," she continued. "I suppose today is one of her good days, even though she's still in bed. I had the impression she was on death's door, but she doesn't seem to be. Dr. Clarkson told my parents that it can go off the rails very quickly, that once she starts losing some of her higher brain functions, the rest could fail in short order. I don't know what's worse – seeing her the way she is now and knowing she'll never get better, or thinking about it taking months, even years for her to fade completely, and not being able to do anything about it."

He looked away, staying silent.

"Edith told you what they expect of us?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Sybil did. Well, they both did," he replied, looking down at the bench they used to sit on together all the time. They'd talked and laughed, cuddled and kissed on this bench, all of it in what seemed like another life now.

"Here we are, our first time back here in years and we're thrown into the past as though nothing's changed," she noted. "All that's happened since I left is entirely forgotten, the most important detail as far as Granny is concerned is that you and I are still together. You must admit, it's rather funny."

"The only thing that I'm prepared to admit is that I care for your granny, and if pretending that we're past versions of ourselves, if choosing to omit certain details for a few days is what will make her feel better, give her some peace, then so be it," he said firmly.

"Spoken like the dutiful son my parents wish they had," she said bitterly, still not looking at him. "I don't mean to sound unfair. Of course we'll do it. It's just that…"

She grit her teeth and fell silent.

"It's just that you've never lied to your granny in your life, and it's hard for you to imagine spending what could be your last moments with her putting on an act," he offered. "To say nothing for how gutted you must be over the fact she doesn't remember everything you've achieved all on your own."

She looked at him, her eyes wide, holding his stare before glancing down and nodding her head.

"Everything you do during your stay here is out of love, Mary," he said. "Love for your family, love for your parents, love for your granny. There's no acting in that. You aren't putting on a false front or pretending at all, not where it truly matters. Think of it not so much as lying, or even being someone you're not. Think of it rather as you've been given this chance to be with her, and that time should be spent enjoying her company, not trying to correct all the things she doesn't properly remember. It's better that when you leave here to go back to Canada that you leave her happy, whatever it takes, isn't it? That's the greatest gift you could give her, something far more precious than a list of the many accolades you've won since you left. She knew you would be a success, Mary. She knew you would be brilliant. What's important is that you show her now that she is loved. That's all."

Her lip quivered as she closed her eyes and turned away.

"Mary," he called softly.

She opened her eyes and looked back at him.

He held his arm out across the top of the bench, reaching past her shoulders.

"Come here," he said earnestly.

She gasped loudly as she came into his hold, burying her head against his neck, clutching his shirt tightly. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand rubbing up and down her back soothingly. He kissed the top of her head and looked out across the grounds as she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks and on to him, choked sobs pouring from her without cease. He held her close to him while she shook, soaking up all of her despair, trying to give her enough strength to carry her through the rest of their stay.


	7. Chapter 7

**Previously:**

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, June 2016**

"Everything you do during your stay here is out of love, Mary," he said. "Love for your family, love for your parents, love for your granny. There's no acting in that. You aren't putting on a false front or pretending at all, not where it truly matters. Think of it not so much as lying, or even being someone you're not. Think of it rather as you've been given this chance to be with her, and that time should be spent enjoying her company, not trying to correct all the things she doesn't properly remember. It's better that when you leave here to go back to Canada that you leave her happy, whatever it takes, isn't it? That's the greatest gift you could give her, something far more precious than a list of the many accolades you've won since you left. She knew you would be a success, Mary. She knew you would be brilliant. What's important is that you show her now that she is loved. That's all."

Her lip quivered as she closed her eyes and turned away.

"Mary," he called softly.

She opened her eyes and looked back at him.

He held his arm out across the back of the bench, reaching past her shoulders.

"Come here," he said earnestly.

She gasped loudly as she came into his hold, burying her head against his neck, clutching his shirt tightly. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand rubbing up and down her back soothingly. He kissed the top of her head and looked out across the grounds as she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks and on to him, choked sobs pouring from her without cease. He held her close to him while she shook, soaking up all of her despair, trying to give her enough strength to carry her through the rest of their stay.

 **Chapter 7:**

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, June 2016**

"How are you, really?" Anna asked, the concern etched on her face.

Mary smiled at the tablet screen and nodded. "I'm doing as well as can be expected, I suppose," she answered. "It was quite a shock when I first arrived, and last night's dinner was bizarre, to say the least. Granny just sat there eyeing us all, not saying a word. Mum says she hears everything, and it seemed that she did, but I'm so used to Granny giving at least a half dozen pointed remarks before the starter course is served. To hear none at all just felt strange."

"And what about your sisters? And Matthew? Everyone coping?" Anna asked, her image crystal clear over the video conference call.

"Edith's been living with all of this for far longer than Sybil and I have. She's been very strong, far more than I would have given her credit for, truly. You know Sybil, she's putting on a brave face and getting on with it, as usual. Having Tom here with her has helped immensely, I'm sure. Matthew's concerned for his mother, understandably. I can barely imagine what a life without Granny will be like. For Isobel, it must be absolutely terrifying."

"Well, I hope you get through the next three days. Will you be taking any extra time there?" Anna asked. "You can, you know. You're not on the call sheet again until Friday, so you've got plenty of time. Same with Matthew."

"No. She has seemed rather bright with Sybil and I back. I'm glad that I came, but there's no reason to stay longer than planned. She's got Isobel and nurses watching over her all day and night. I'll stay the weekend, then come back," she said firmly.

"All right, well let me know if you need me to change your flight," Anna said. "Give my best to everyone."

"I'll call you tomorrow. Bye," Mary said, ending the call and shutting off her tablet.

She paused for a moment before getting up from her chair. The tears were threatening to spill again and she had to take a few deep breaths to quell them. Though she was in the privacy of her old bedroom, she was determined to not break down too many times during her stay. After crying on Matthew yesterday, she'd managed through dinner and gone up with Granny and Isobel afterwards without further incident. She and her sisters all gathered in Granny's large bedroom, chatting away about nothing, the sound of their voices hopefully giving her some cheer. By the time Granny fell asleep and Isobel sent them away, she was exhausted, but took some small comfort in the hope that she had done what she could.

Granny was still asleep this morning when she, Sybil and Edith went out for a run before breakfast. Most of the morning was spent with her parents, catching up on the latest goings-on in the family. There was a spirited discussion about the U.S. Presidential Election, with Tom at a loss to explain what exactly was going on, but trying gamely all the same. Matthew had gone out for a walk to the Village and still hadn't returned by lunch. She went up to chat with Anna, it being just past 8 a.m. back in Canada, and was now preparing herself to visit with Granny again.

She rose from her chair and wandered over to her antique dresser, framed photographs of family and friends still mounted nicely on top, dusted and cleaned, as always. She smiled as she saw images of her and her family through the years, stopping at a particularly large one from back when she was freshly graduated from the Guildhall School, Matthew's family mixed in with hers, the two of them standing in the centre, smiling, his arm around her waist.

She shook her head slowly. It was quite remarkable that he was here, even though it didn't surprise her in the least. She wondered, not for the first time, what would happen if the situation was reversed? If Isobel was gravely ill and delirious, convinced that her son was still with Mary, would she fly back to England to help? Would she pretend to still be his girlfriend so that his mother would have some moments of happiness? Would she so easily play her part, smiling and joking at the dinner table in Isobel's presence, calling him 'my darling' and looking at him adoringly, then taking her leave the moment the scene was over, to fade into the background and wait to be summoned again for another performance?

She sighed as she looked at another photo of her and Matthew, this one from a vacation they took to Ibiza years ago. The answer came all too easily. Of course she wouldn't. He wouldn't even ask her to. Bring the bitch who rejected his proposal and moved to another country back to help cheer up his dying mother? How utterly ridiculous.

Her eyes wandered to her bed, made up immaculately by a maid the moment she went out for her run. Last night had been cold, scary, lonely. The duvet had done little to warm her, the image of Granny looking frail and weak burned into her mind even when she closed her eyes to try and sleep. She considered going to Matthew's room, giving him some lame excuse about sharing the same bed to maintain the ruse for Granny's sake, and resting peacefully in his arms. He wouldn't say no, not to that, and it would have worked, she knew. That's why she always left his place as soon as she could back when they had their arrangement. To fall asleep in his arms would have kept her there until morning.

Instead, she toughed it out and eventually slept for a couple of fitful hours. No, she didn't deserve the warmth of his arms, and he didn't deserve to be stuck having to comfort her and help her fall asleep. Not anymore.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 2016**

Anna leaned on the kitchen island, sipping her orange juice, a frown on her face. She often looked out the large French doors that led out to the patio when she was in the kitchen, at least on those rare occasions where she got to actually have breakfast at home. Alex had the yard landscaped exactly as she wanted, with tall trees all around, a Koi pond in the corner next to the rock garden, a waterfall leading into the swimming pool and a comfortable hammock covered in shade. Just looking outside calmed her, especially on a day like today where the sun was bright and warm and shimmered off the surface of the water. For once she wasn't required to be anywhere else, no need to go down to the studio with Mary away, no calls to make and no emails to write. It was shocking to be so free on a weekday morning.

She would have slept in, even, if not for waking up to call Mary, and now after that conversation, she felt terrible for her and her family. She'd met Violet Crawley many times, had worked hard to gain her trust, to convince her that she was the right assistant to help manage Mary's career. To hear that the British screen legend was now practically bed ridden and a shadow of her former powerful self broke Anna's heart.

"How's Mary?" Alex asked, coming up behind her and kissing her cheek on his way to the fridge.

"As well as can be expected, she said," Anna answered, watching as he poured himself a smoothie from the pitcher that he kept in the fridge and stirred it with a spoon before drinking it. "She'll be there over the next three days, back on Monday. Have you heard from Matthew?"

"He called just now," he replied between sips. "A rather strange situation they're in, it seems, but he's fine with it."

"Of course he is, he's Matthew," she remarked, finishing her orange juice and putting the empty glass in the sink. "He'd open his veins for Mary, everyone knows that."

"He's afraid for his mother," he noted, adding his empty glass to hers and going to fetch a protein bar from the cupboard. "He thinks that Mary will be all right in time, all things considered, but he's worried that Isobel will neglect herself to stay at Lady Grantham's side."

"Mmm," she said sadly.

"What are you doing today?" he asked, putting two bars into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and coming over to her.

"I don't know, actually. No real plans," she said plainly. "Maybe go for a swim. We'll see."

He looked at her, a frown coming to his face as he noticed her obvious dismay and concern. Nodding his head, he reached over and promptly scooped her up in his arms without warning.

"Alex!" she yelped, grabbing hold of his shoulders and looking at him in shock. "What are you doing?"

"A swim sounds great, love," he said, smiling at her as he carried her out of the kitchen, bound for the stairs. "Better to go in now than later in the day when it gets hotter. I bet the water's perfect."

"You have to go to work," she protested as he carried her upstairs. "It's all right, really. Just put me down. I'll see you later."

"Work can wait. It's not every weekday that I get my wife all to myself. To not take full advantage would be just dumb," he said confidently. "First, a swim. Then, a real breakfast, followed by some shopping, and I think a couples massage after lunch is just what you need."

She smiled, despite her mood, kissing him lightly as they reached the bedroom. "Thank you," she said softly. "I love you so much."

"You can prove it by wearing that bikini I bought you for your birthday," he said, setting her down and hugging her. "And I love you too."

"You wear that Speedo I bought you for yours and you've got a deal," she teased, reaching up and helping him out of his suit jacket.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, June 2016**

Matthew took the stairs slowly, his hand holding on to the polished wood of the bannister. When he was a child, he used to race up and down these steps until Mother or Dad yelled at him to slow down. There was even the rather hilarious incident of when he and Sybil tried to ride the wooden handrail all the way down. They somehow both made it, laughing all the while, only to be greeted by the ashen face of Carson at the bottom. Dad had scolded him loudly for such a stunt, though Matthew swore he could see a smile tugging at his lips the entire time. Whenever Matthew's family came to visit, he would go tearing up the stairs, eager to get to his usual room, or see Mary or her sisters. Downton Abbey had so many places to explore, and he would zip up and down the stairs constantly. Now though, he almost wished they went on forever, if only so it would take him longer to reach his destination.

He exhaled as he came to the top, pausing to turn and look out from the high arches of the gallery. When he had first come here as a boy, the Great Hall resembled a grand atrium, as vast and spectacular as any Church knave or stadium grandstand. He would look up high at all the portraits and banners hung on the walls and feel so small beneath their gaze. Over the years, the Great Hall, like the rest of Downton, became normal to him, just another room in Mary's house. Years ago, he had imagined a beautiful wedding reception here, guests standing on the stairs, white ribbons and flowers decorating the bannisters and columns, the happy couple laughing and waving as they came in through the doors to gleeful applause.

And now it was just a room, full of history and memories seen over its near two hundred years, but no longer a special, or even happy place. Not for him.

He wandered through the Family Wing and knocked softly on the large door at the end of the hallway. Seconds later, he heard his mother's voice calling him to enter.

Violet was sitting in bed, propped up by a bunch of pillows, the duvet pulled up past her waist. Her hair was styled as usual. Her blouse, cashmere sweater and scarf elegant and immaculate. Bright sunshine streamed in through the large windows. For a moment he could almost imagine it was a warm summer day and he was just paying a call to his mother and her dear friend. Violet raised her chin and smiled as he came in, her eyes still bright, though Mary was correct - there seemed to be something missing.

"Matthew's here," Isobel said from her bedside, looking over at Matthew encouragingly.

"Matthew," Violet said slowly, nodding her head.

He swallowed and smiled back, steeling himself, trying to be ready for anything. If he looked around the room at all the medical equipment and pill bottles and supplies covering the tables he would lose focus, so, as he did for the past few days, he kept looking at Violet as he took a seat in the chair next to her.

"Hello," he said cheerfully.

"Matthew," Violet replied, smiling at him.

"I'm just going to go talk to the nurses," Isobel said softly, rising from her chair. "The call button is over there if you need it, Matthew."

"Maybe go down and grab a quick bite, Mother," Matthew said, looking at her with concern. "We'll be fine here."

Isobel looked at Violet worriedly, but grudgingly agreed and left the room.

"It's a nice day out," he said, measuring his tone. Violet wasn't deaf. There was no need to shout. "You should take a walk later when it cools down a bit."

Violet turned her head to the windows and looked out for a moment. A laboured breath left her lips, then she nodded and looked back at him.

"You should be careful, you know," he said with false humour. "Alone with a man in your bedroom. The gossip will run rampant about you having a mystery lover."

She smiled and chuckled a bit, nodding her head in agreement.

"But then you never cared about what gossip went around about you, did you?" he said wistfully, and her eyes found his again.

She reached her hand out a small way, and he crossed the remaining distance with his, squeezing lightly and keeping his fingers closed around hers.

"Matthew," she said, her voice growing a bit stronger. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," he said. "You don't need to thank me. I enjoy coming here."

She nodded. "I know that you're busy."

He wasn't sure that he should be here without Mary, or anyone else, for that matter. Mother had said Violet was asking about him, and she thought it a good idea for him to pop in just to sit with her a while. Mary and her sisters were taking turns with her, but they had all gone into York with Cora to get out of the house for a little while, which left only him.

"Not that busy," he said evenly. "It's not too far to come up here."

He and Mary had agreed that they would act as if they were living in London together if the subject came up. Back in 2010 they spent most of their time in the city, going for auditions and networking and such. Yorkshire was usually for weekends and holidays. That time six years ago, when they were both younger and their careers were in their infancies seemed almost unrecognizable to him now.

"Mary looks tired," she said suddenly, her eyes still upon him.

"Well, she's busy, busier than I am," he offered, trying to keep his answers vague. He remembered all of the different roles that Mary was juggling back then, being on stage and also going out for other parts at the same time. She had guest appearances on a few television shows and did voiceovers for a few commercials, one even with an Irish accent, funnily enough. He would learn later that the producers from _Paladin_ noticed her on TV, saw her play, and were hooked. The rest was history, as they say, both professionally and personally.

"She works too much," she said, a slight frown crossing her brow.

"She gets it from you," he joked. "She works so hard because she wants to make you proud, you know that."

She squeezed his hand. "She has. You make sure and tell her that. She's made me very, very proud."

He nodded, though he blinked in surprise at both the strength of her grip and the conviction in her voice.

"Mary is still in love with you," she said firmly.

He swallowed and nodded, plastering his best fake grin on his face. "I hope so."

"She is. She always has been," she continued.

"It's nice of you to say that," he said guardedly.

"Mary is like me that way. We take things like that for granted, because it seems to come so easy. Career, family, Downton, those are hard, those need work. Love…love is simple…or it should be, but we don't think about it enough, and don't work at it as much as we should," she rambled.

"You're lucky that you have those around you who understand the demands on your time," he replied.

She smiled and nodded. "Lucky to have those around us who love us, despite everything."

"You're very easy to love," he said, squeezing her hand again. "Even when you used to yell at me over some nonsense, it only made me love you more."

"Ladies do not yell, Matthew," she said archly.

"Scolded me, then," he said, chuckling. "I think I almost enjoyed it, just being able to get your attention for a little while."

She let out a noise somewhere between a huff and a grunt and it made him feel better than he had since he arrived.

"You must be strong," she said, looking at him intently. "She loves you. You must let her, and she will. Show her that she can, that it's all right, and she will."

He frowned for a brief moment, trying to decipher her meaning. Back in 2010 there was no argument or disagreement between them that Granny would have heard about. They had it out from time to time, such was the lot of two smart and stubborn people, but it was never with any malice. He was convinced she even liked to pick fights sometimes so they could make up immediately after, and it always worked brilliantly.

"She can count on me," he said finally, satisfied with that answer.

"I've learned to enjoy the moment," she said, nodding to him. "The past is wonderful to recall, and no one knows the future, so I've stopped worrying about it. I try and appreciate each day, be thankful for it, even the bad ones."

"You have much to be thankful for. We're all thankful for you," he said.

She nodded slowly, looking away for a moment, then returned her attention back to him.

"Don't wait too long," she said. "I know you're afraid, and you might have reason to be, but you must try, all the same. No matter how much it might hurt, pick yourself up and try again. Keep trying, don't give up, because it will prove entirely worth it in the end, truly."

He nodded, unsure as to whether she was giving him career advice or talking about something else. It was difficult to follow her, the mixed messages so unlike the sharp firebrand he knew her to be. He realized sadly that a part of him wished they really were back in 2010, so he could do things differently, say things differently, hopefully get a different answer to his proposal than the one he received. His mind wouldn't let him travel though. He was putting on an act for Violet, but he was well aware of where he was, and all that had taken place over the years since.

"I will," he said. "Mancs are made of stout stuff, you know that. We don't just quit."

Her hand left his and moved up his arm, reaching for him shakily. He blinked and leaned in so she could pat his face, her caress surprisingly warm.

"Mary is still in love with you," she repeated, smiling at him.

He nodded, looking into her eyes and seeing a familiar light.

"Matthew has to go down and talk to Robert," Isobel called from the doorway. "Let's let him go now. You'll see him later at dinner tonight."

He sat back up straight. Violet looked at him and nodded, granting her permission for him to take his leave. He gave her a smile and patted her hand, getting up from his chair. He shared a grateful look with his mother before he left.

Isobel watched him go, then went over and sat down at Violet's bedside, taking her hand and squeezing it, smiling when the Dowager Countess squeezed back.

"Isobel," Violet said, smiling at her, then closing her eyes, her hand still holding on to hers.

"Go on and get some sleep," Isobel said, smoothing the pillows with her free hand. "We'll go for a walk later."

"Mmm," Violet replied, eyes closed.

Isobel watched her sleep for several moments, holding her hand all the while.

"You aren't leaving me," Isobel said with a fierce whisper, a tear falling down her cheek. "Not after everything we've been through. Do you hear me, Violet Crawley? Don't you dare leave me!"

Isobel leaned over and kissed her forehead, swallowing as she pulled back, their hands still joined.

"You say that every day. Where would I go? You never let me out of your sight," Violet mumbled, squeezing her hand in return, eyes still closed.

Isobel laughed through her tears, shaking her head in consternation.

"Don't just sit there staring. It's rude. Come to bed," Violet rasped, releasing her hand.

Isobel got up, went around to the other side and eased herself on to the bed, careful not to disturb the pillows or the duvet. She kept her eyes on Violet's sleeping figure, watching to make sure her chest rose and fell with each breath. Eventually she allowed herself to close her eyes and rest, their hands joined again on Violet's lap.

* * *

Mary nodded to one of the housemaids as she passed her on the stairs on her way down to the servants' floor. When she was younger, she knew all the employees by name, but times had changed. The staff was greatly reduced in favour of having contractors come in every few days to help with the upkeep of the place. There were gardeners for the outdoors, a cleaning service to deal with the rooms that the family still used, part-time valets hired for parties and such, and just a small complement of full-time staff under Carson's direction. The basement used to be bustling with activity, particularly around Christmas, with cooking and baking going on constantly and different staff assigned to take care of the guests coming in. Now, it was far more deserted.

She moved along the hallway and came to Carson's office, smiling as she saw the familiar brass nameplate on the thick wood door. How many times had she come down here over the years, just to listen to music, read, surf the net on her tablet or just get away from the world? He didn't know very much about the business, and wasn't overly wordly, having never left the UK, even on vacation, but he was the absolute best listener, and having known her all her life, he knew her better than most.

"Carson," she said, smiling and nodding to him. "May I come in?"

"Of course, my Lady. Please do," he said, standing at attention and motioning to the chair opposite his large desk.

"I didn't want to leave tomorrow without having a proper chat," she said, taking a seat. "I hope you don't mind. I asked for some tea."

"No, not at all," he replied at first, then blinked in surprise as Mrs. Hughes, the head housekeeper, also his wife, brought in a tea tray. He stared at her in stunned silence as she proceeded to pour them two cups and set out a plate of biscuits for her husband before leaving his office. "Oh my," he said finally, taking a sip.

"I do hope that you're happy, Carson," Mary began. "I worry about you, you know. You and your wife should be out seeing the world, visiting family and friends, and such. I know it's useless to tell you that you need not be so committed to your job, but it's true. We may not enjoy it when you're not here, but we are capable of making do for short periods."

"Thank you, my Lady," he managed. "We do get out. We had a lovely weekend in the Highlands a few months back."

"Good," she said. "Perhaps when the film I'm working on now premieres in London, you'll be gracious enough to accompany me? That is, if Mrs. Hughes allows it."

His mouth fell open in surprise. "Well…my Lady…erm…that's most generous of you, but surely there is a far more eligible gentleman that would be far more deserving of being at your side?"

She smiled wanly and sipped her tea. "You would be surprised, Carson, but there isn't, no. If the choice is between you and another actor, you're the easy winner, I assure you."

He chuckled and took a bite of a shortbread biscuit, savouring the taste and swallowing before he looked at her knowingly and replied. "I would be honoured, my Lady, if it came to that. But I expect the event won't arrive until next year sometime, and I dare suggest that Mr. Crawley might have something to say about it by then."

Mary averted her eyes and shook her head. "It's over between Matthew and I, Carson, you know that. It's been years, now."

"I am aware, but his presence here gives me pause," he said evenly.

"He's just being kind," she replied. "We put him in a rather difficult position – again – and he's handled it with grace and compassion. I know Granny has appreciated him being here, and so have I, but that doesn't mean there will be any rekindling between us, if that's what you think. Our behaviour with each other has all been for show, for Granny's benefit, nothing more."

"Forgive me, my Lady, I do understand all of that, but it seems to me that there are some things that even actors cannot feign," he noted.

She looked up and caught his eye, arching her eyebrow in surprise.

"He looks at you at dinner. I've seen it," he explained. "There's no reason for him to do so. Lady Grantham isn't watching him all of the time, but he looks at you, in very much the same way that he looked at you all of those years ago."

"Maybe, but even if he did, it was more out of nostalgia, I'm sure," she grumbled. "Besides, we're very different people now than who we were back then. Living in Canada, the direction our careers have gone, we're changed, Carson."

"Perhaps you are, my Lady, though that would not entirely explain the way that I've seen you looking at him," he said.

Her cheeks flushed slightly as she took a quick sip of tea to hide her face.

"I expect you haven't told him about how you feel, not truly?" he guessed.

She looked at him closely, then shook her head. "Oh Carson, I've lost that chance, haven't I? One doesn't try to go back after severing things so completely as I did, causing him the pain that he's only just now recovered from. Besides, he's not lacking for companionship. There's another – a Miss Swire - who appears, from the little that I know of her, to be a rather nice girl."

"While I have never heard of, nor met this Miss Swire, as if any man in his right mind could prefer her to you," he harrumphed.

She laughed freely for the first time in days and shook her head. "You know, Carson, there will come a day when whatever spell I have cast upon you will be broken and I'll do something that even you will find fault with. It should have happened years ago, really, but for now, I'm ever so grateful that you continue to be so delusional where I am concerned. It does wonders for my confidence."

"Every butler has his favourites, my Lady," he said warmly, smiling at her. "If you will permit it, allow me to give you one piece of advice. Tell him what's in your heart. If you still love him, let him know. Perhaps not today, or even tomorrow, but tell him. Then even if he chooses to move on – and he might, to his own peril – you won't be sorry. But if you don't tell him, you could regret it all your life long."

"Tell him and risk rejection? That doesn't sound like something I would do, does it, Carson?" she asked, her voice tinged with resignation.

"No, which is why he will understand just how genuine you are," he said.

She smiled and took a sip of tea, letting the warmth fill her, finally feeling as though she was at home.

* * *

Mary rubbed her arms as she walked over to her bench and took a seat, the breeze kicking up a bit despite the sun shining overhead. She breathed in the country air and savoured the scene before her, even taking out her phone and recording a quick video of the landscape. She had forgotten how much she missed this place, despite how sad an occasion this visit was. Time seemed to stand still here, such a different pace from London or Toronto. Anna told her that her upcoming Canada Day party would be at her home in the city rather than up north at a cottage and Mary was a bit disappointed to hear that. She had gone up into cottage country to film a scene for _Paladin_ and loved it. The towering trees, the lakes, the cottages, large and small, right on the water. It all reminded her of Downton in a way, and presented a nice refuge from the city, just a few hours' drive from downtown. With her flight scheduled to leave tomorrow, she wanted to enjoy her last moments here, one last glimpse of English country life from another era, a simpler, easier time. She didn't want to think about what changes might await her the next time she came back here.

She let out a long breath as she looked to the horizon. Granny hadn't made it to dinner last night, feeling too tired and apparently a bit agitated as well, according to Mum. When she had these spells, it took Isobel or Dad to calm her down, their presence enough to make her realize who she was, where she was, and that she was all right. Mary felt terribly, but she was glad she hadn't witnessed it up close for herself. She wanted her memories of Granny to remain pristine and untouched, no matter how weak or foolish that might make her seem.

There had been flashes over her stay that had given her hope, times when Granny had mentioned something about making sure Aunt Rosamund was working hard for her, or reminding her to fight for every penny she deserved and to not undersell herself, or the studios would walk all over her. In those all too brief moments, Granny seemed like herself, the same force of nature that had dominated their family all her life. Mary promised herself that when she came back in December to visit, she'd show her all of her work, watch all four seasons of _Paladin_ with her, even if she had to sit in bed at her side to do it. Granny would have loads of critiques to offer, but Mary didn't mind. It would be just for them, a private moment for Granny to see all that Mary had achieved. She wasn't one for prayer, but she prayed now that Granny would be able to watch and enjoy that with her. This visit had gone well, for the most part, living back in 2010 in her presence. Next time, they could have their viewing, and not even talk about what year it was, just forget about time altogether.

Her hand ran idly across the top of the bench, over to the spot where Matthew had sat on the first day they arrived, the same place that he normally occupied whenever they came out here. This was still their bench, really, as much his as it was hers. She couldn't put into words how much she appreciated him being here, and typically, she hadn't even tried to tell him. It was helpful having him here just as someone else to spend time with Granny, but also to give her some distraction. They hadn't discussed work, or anything of real consequence, just making small talk and noting how nothing had really changed in Yorkshire. Being with him was soothing, and comfortable, and familiar, and easy. He hadn't expected anything of her at all the entire time. He just followed her lead, stepping to her side when she needed him and stepping back when she didn't, with nary a complaint all along.

She knew he had spoken to Alex since he'd been here. She wondered if he'd spoken to Lavinia. What explanation had he given her for his departure? Did they have plans for this week that had been derailed because he'd flown back to England to be with his ex-girlfriend and her family? Had he told her that he was impersonating Mary's boyfriend while he was here? Mary found she couldn't make herself care. When their plane touched down in Toronto, she could return to real life. For right now, she was here, and he was here, and together they were making the best of a bad situation. Despite her initial reaction to his arrival, she was glad that Sybil had convinced him to come.

"Mary."

She looked up and smiled as the object of her thoughts approached. Clasping her hands together in her lap, she nodded as he sat down next to her.

"You were with Granny?" she asked.

"No, Sybil wanted me to look at some old photos with her and Tom," he explained. "Apparently she dug up some old albums and thought it would be great fun to go through them."

"Oh no, and was it?" she asked.

"Not exactly. Although it was a bit of fun to see you in pigtails again," he joked.

"God, I thought they looked so darling back then, even after Nanny tried to talk me out of it," she recalled, smiling and shaking her head. "Thank God the photos are kept here so no one can bear witness to the folly of my youth."

"I'm a witness," he said, giving her a cheeky smile.

"Then you must promise not to reveal the existence of such photos," she retorted, arching her eyebrow at him.

"I could be convinced to keep silent, I suppose," he said lightly.

She smiled and looked back out across the fields.

"Mary, I…there's something I've been meaning to tell you, something that's rather long overdue," he said, looking at her closely.

"Well, that sounds serious," she noted, smiling at him curiously, though a nervous clench seized her stomach as she imagined all manner of different declarations he could say. _'Mary, I'm seeing Lavinia now. She's so sweet. She makes me laugh, doesn't argue with me and isn't nearly as high-maintenance as you are.'_

"It is," he confirmed. "Something I should have said ages ago, but being back here sort of reminded me of it."

"What is it, pray?" she asked, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. If it was something from the past, then it wouldn't have to do with Lavinia, at least.

"Back then, when we…back when we lived here, I'm sorry for not supporting you, not believing in you, at least not the way you deserved, or needed from me. Whenever you told me your grand plans and ambitions for your career, I paid you token attention at most, and I know that must have been disappointing for you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't give your dreams the seriousness and respect that I should have."

She blinked in shock. "Erm…well…that is unexpected."

He nodded in understanding. "I did believe in you, though, back then. I believed in all of your talent, and your drive, and ambition. I listened to everything you said, and in my heart, I knew you were going to reach your dreams, because I knew you wouldn't stop until you did. I just was afraid of telling you all that."

"But why? You were never shy about telling me anything," she stated.

"I was afraid, is the simple answer," he said sheepishly. "I was in awe of your talent, but also your commitment, how you'd run the same line over and over again until it was absolutely perfect, even when I couldn't tell the difference between the first time and the twentieth. I would watch you during those moments, watch you attack a scene with such fire, and I knew that one day your ambition would outgrow this place, even outgrow London and all of England. I thought about how much different your life would become when you became successful, and I guess I never envisioned myself having any part in it. So, I wasn't as supportive of you, not because I didn't think you were capable, but because it felt like sharing your dream was just moving us ever so quicker to the day you…you wouldn't need me anymore."

She swallowed as she looked at him, unable to come up with a response.

"Anyway, being back here has made me rather nostalgic, especially with Sybil digging up old photographs and such. Edith even found some old clothes of mine when she was getting my room ready. I know it's not overly important, since that time was so long ago, but I wanted you to know that I am sorry for the way I behaved back then. When I see you on set now, see how confident and assured you are, how ideas for scenes and delivery and mannerisms come so quickly to you, it's as though I'm seeing all your hard work pay off. I'm not surprised at all by how well you're doing with the show and everything else. It feels as though it's been coming for a while, now, and I know this isn't it for you, either. You're going to be great, Mary. You already are."

She looked away, desperately searching for some neutral reply, some professional answer that she used whenever reporters would gush over her, something to diffuse the mounting flutter in her chest and silence Carson's words ringing in her ears.

"Well, thank you," she said slowly. "I hope you aren't expecting an apology from me for something that I did wrong back then. I wouldn't know where to begin, I'm afraid."

He laughed and shook his head. "No, that's all right. I just wanted you to know."

"Thank you. I…I appreciate you telling me," she struggled, trying to appear casual.

He nodded and rose from the bench, giving her a kind smile. "Tom wanted me to go in and rescue him if necessary, so I better head back and see what your sister has him up to. I'll see you at dinner."

"Until then," she replied, watching as he turned and went back up to the house.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, Canada Day, July 1, 2016**

Mary looked out the window of the Uber SUV as it made its way up towards Anna's neighbourhood. The national holiday had begun with overcast skies and even rained a bit, but it had now cleared up and the sun was out again, the weather hot enough that a swim would be refreshing but not absolutely necessary. She was looking forward to the barbecue and relaxing a bit by the pool, even if she couldn't stay too late. She had another early call tomorrow morning, on a Saturday, even, but she was determined to enjoy this brief break.

She checked her phone again, pleased that she didn't have anything to attend to for the moment. Since coming back from England earlier in the week, she and Matthew had been hard at work preparing for their official return to the studio yesterday. It was smart of them to do so, as they spent 16 hours on set, playing around with different camera angles and sequences for two scenes. Over one stretch, they had to remain on their marks for close to an hour while everything shifted around them and Thea kept checking and re-checking the lighting. It was all a bit absurd, facing each other the entire time and making idle chat while the crew buzzed about. The day had been exhausting, to the point that she had fallen asleep on the drive back to her building again. Matthew gave her a gentle shake to wake her up before she bid him goodbye and he went on his way to his place.

Their departure from Downton had been quick, Mary insisting on leaving without much fanfare, otherwise she would have become a crying mess. Her parents understood, and so, with quick kisses for them and Edith, she, Matthew, Sybil and Tom had piled into the limo and made the trip to Leeds Airport to connect on to Heathrow and the journey back across the Atlantic.

Her goodbye to Granny had been a quiet moment in the sitting room, holding her hands, accepting her good wishes. She prayed it wouldn't be their last time together, but it was as close to perfect as she could have hoped for. Granny was dressed and done up as she always was – elegant and aristocratic to the end – and if Mary tried hard enough, she could imagine it was just a routine goodbye on her way to an audition in London, a brief parting before seeing each other for dinner the very next weekend. The illusion gave her some comfort that she still clung to today. The lasting image she had of her was in her full regalia, vibrant and bright.

It didn't take long to throw herself back into her old routine, focusing on work to shove everything else to the side. While she was away, Anna had organized their trip to Comic-Con in San Diego near the end of the month, and the promo schedule for _Paladin_ was finalized. Her stylist had already sent her photos of possible outfits for these appearances and they would meet in a few weeks to coordinate before she flew out. She was back into a bubble where all she had to do was concentrate on her acting and tackle each of her commitments as they came up, her team taking care of the details behind the scenes so she didn't need to worry.

And the acting dominated her thoughts, the work filling every spare moment she had. If she wasn't on set or rehearsing with Matthew, she was grabbing a quick bite from catering or going for a run with Natalie and Anna. She made sure there was never a free moment for her to consider confessing her feelings to Matthew, never a chance to get his attention off of the script, or whatever scene they were working on. On the flight home, fully reclined in her business class seat, she decided that she had to be strong, had to stand by her past decisions, instead of mistreating him any further. She had broken up with him, then taken up with him again in that ridiculous sex-only arrangement that had been cruel and unfair, only to end it once they found themselves working together. To tell him she loved him still would be playing with his emotions in the worst way. He was lost to her, that was the reality, and she must now accept it.

Part of her hoped that he would bring Lavinia to the party, hoped that the two of them would splash about like some disgusting new couple, feed each other pineapple and watermelon and steal kisses at every opportunity. Let him rub it right in her face how happy he was with another woman, how he had moved on, how he had found someone to appreciate him, treat him the way he deserved, a nice, quiet, kind woman with ginger hair and freckles, with a predictable job and tons of time to devote to him. Part of her wanted Lavinia to be at the party, to feel the pain of seeing them so she could harden her heart again. She ignored the larger part of her that desperately hoped he showed up alone.

When she reached the large house, Anna was already waiting for her at the door. Mary smiled as she came up the cobbles and hugged and kissed her friend, arching her eyebrow as she took in her playful outfit – red and white bikini top, white collared dress shirt left unbuttoned, and white jean shorts. Her blonde hair was down, loose about her shoulders, and a pair of cute sunglasses was perched on her head.

"My, my, aren't you quite the sexy hostess?" Mary teased, nodding in approval at Anna's clothes, hairstyle and bare feet.

"Stop it. I just didn't want to parade around in my bathing suit all day, is all," Anna said, blushing as she led Mary through the house, past platters of food and out to the patio where the party was already started.

Mary put her bag down on an empty chair and lifted her sunglasses, smiling as she saw Alex manning the large barbecue and some sort of smoking contraption set up next to it. A group of guests, who she assumed were clients of his, or neighbours, gathered around the stone island having drinks and watched him cook. Music played from the speakers hidden all around the backyard, and there were a few people already in the swimming pool. It wasn't a large gathering, which suited Mary fine.

Anna brought her over to the covered part of the patio where tables were set up for the food. Several different salads were offered, as well as cupcakes decorated with Canadian flags made out of icing, and small pastries with similar patriotic touches.

"It all looks scrumptious, Anna," Mary noted pleasantly. "And quite appropriate for the occasion, as well."

"We tried," Anna replied. "Alex insisted on Canadian beer and Canadian wine as well. The beef is from Alberta, cheese from Quebec and the fish is from the Maritimes. I think he spent the past two days at the butchers and the grocers arranging everything."

"I'm sure it will all be delicious," Mary replied. "Now, I should try one of these Canadian drinks that you're serving."

"The bar's this way," Anna said, tugging on Mary's arm. "Matthew will make you something."

"Matthew?" Mary questioned, frowning as she looked over to see the man himself serving drinks at the bar.

"Yeah, he offered to help out. I don't know how good he actually is, but no one's complained so far," Anna said.

"Did he mention if Lavinia was coming?" Mary asked, speaking quietly as they neared the bar.

"No, why would he?" Anna asked in confusion.

Mary didn't bother answering, just smiling and nodding as she reached the bar and Matthew greeted her.

"Ladies, what can I get you?" he asked warmly.

"I'm still working on my beer, which reminds me that I need to go talk to Alex about when the steaks and the pig will be ready. Be right back," Anna declared, and before Mary or Matthew could reply, she was gone to go speak to her husband at the barbecue.

"Well, I was told that you're serving only Canadian drinks," Mary said, smiling politely as she glanced at the bar. "What do you recommend?"

"Alex picked a few local beers that are quite good. We've got an amber ale, a pilsner and a Belgian-style. However, I think I'll get you a rye and Coke. It's decidedly Canadian, and probably more to your taste."

She smiled as she watched him prepare her drink, putting a lime wedge on the glass and handing it to her.

"Thank you," she said, nodding and taking a sip. Rye and Coke wasn't particularly complicated, but she was glad to have a drink all the same. If anything, it gave her an easy distraction so she wasn't caught staring. He was wearing a pair of board shorts and nothing else, his broad shoulders, bare chest, firm abs and strong arms on full display.

Matthew took a sip of his beer, looking out to the guests in the pool, anything to avoid glancing at Mary. Of course he knew she would be here, and of course he knew this was a pool party, but her outfit was entirely distracting. She was wearing a red one-piece bathing suit with a white sarong and sandals. Her hair was down, not nearly as styled as it was on set, and she wore minimal makeup, giving her a natural and relaxed appearance.

"Is Lavinia coming by later?" Mary asked casually, taking another sip of her drink.

He blinked at her question. "No," he said. "She wasn't invited, as far as I know."

"Ah," Mary replied. "Well, I'm starving. I'm going to have a Canada Day cupcake, I think. Are you stuck bartending for the day?"

"Just at the beginning, to make sure everyone gets a drink," he replied, smiling and shrugging his shoulders at her. "I'll come find you when I've been released."

"Good," she said, nodding to him and leaving him to his duties.

* * *

"I think we're good for food, babes," Anna said, coming to Alex's side and putting her arm around his waist. "Everyone loved the steak and the roast pork. Come and hang out a bit."

He leaned over and kissed her, putting the tongs down and lowering the temperature on the grill.

"All right," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and turning away from the barbecue.

"Hang on," she said, putting her hand on his chest to stop him. "The apron stays here."

He smirked at her before removing his apron and casting it on the island.

"Much better," she said cheekily, smiling and running her hand over his bare torso.

"You're ridiculous," he joked, walking with her to join their guests.

"Why? Because I like to show off my fit husband? Seems perfectly normal to me," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. He was unable to reply before they started mingling with some of the neighbours.

* * *

Mary had kept to herself for most of the party. Anna brought her around and introduced her to some of the guests, and she'd dutifully answered questions from those who knew who she was and made idle conversation with everyone else. After a while, though, she took her salad and grilled salmon to a quiet corner and ate alone, perfectly content to enjoy the sunshine, the music and the good vibes that everyone was giving off. She was happy for Anna, knowing how much it meant to her that everyone have a good time. She certainly was.

Eventually, with her delicious meal finished, and her glass empty, she rose from the lounge chair and stretched her arms. The sun beat down on the yard and the water of the pool looked cool and refreshing. Trying to appear as casual as she could, she untied her sarong and removed it, throwing it on the lounge chair and stepping out of her sandals.

She didn't really know what she was doing, a thrill shooting up her spine as she made her way to the pool. It wasn't that she was wearing anything too racy. The red piece of lycra was backless, the straps reaching up her front and tying around her neck. The halter-style of the top bared her shoulders, sides and showed off a decent amount of cleavage, but there were plenty of cute women here dressed in bikinis and such. Her own swimsuit wasn't even as revealing as Anna's, but she secretly hoped it would get one man's attention in particular.

She dipped her toe in the water, then stepped gracefully down the steps and into the pool. It was mostly deserted, and she swam lazily over to the far side, dipping her head underwater and coming back up, brushing her wet hair away from her face as she leaned against the wall and enjoyed the sunshine.

"Mind if I join you?"

She opened her eyes and smiled up at Matthew as he stood on the deck looking down at her.

"That depends. Has your employer allowed you to join the party finally?" she asked.

"He has," he confirmed. "How's the water?"

"Quite nice. Come and see for yourself," she said, smiling at him.

He eased into the pool, shivering slightly at the sudden contact with the slightly cooler water, but he adjusted immediately and swam over to her, resting his arm on the deck, staying a bit away from her, but still close enough to have a chat.

"That is good," he said, his damp hair looking wonderfully dishevelled.

"I remember one summer when Edith and I begged Dad to put a pool in for us," she recalled, laughing at the memory. "We obviously were unsuccessful."

"They're a lot of work," he added. "Alex just has a company come in and take care of it for him. He can't be bothered. He says that with all the trees around, it can get rather messy."

"It does seem like a chore," she agreed. "That's why it's best to enjoy it while the weather cooperates."

"How are you doing?" he asked. "I know we've only been back for less than a week…"

She shook her head, not wanting to go too far down this road. "I'm all right, keeping busy. I spoke to Mum this morning. I don't think much will change for a while. Granny will just gradually worsen, I expect. I should be more concerned for your mother. This is probably harder on her than it is on me."

"I don't think it's a suffering contest, but thank you for the thought," he said. "Focusing on the present, seeing to Violet's daily care, helps distract her from thinking about the future, I think."

"I can relate," she muttered.

"Alex, don't you dare! Stop! Stop! Aaah!"

They both turned and laughed at the sight of Alex carrying Anna over his shoulder towards the pool. She was kicking her legs and punching his back, his arm holding her firmly in place. He had managed to get her out of her shorts and shirt, stripping her down to her red and white bikini.

"Love, I told you not to try me. Now, take a deep breath," he said, grinning as he neared the pool edge. The guests all watched on in anticipation. Mary noticed for the first time that Alex's face and chest were smeared in red and white icing, just before he leaped into the pool, taking Anna with him.

"You little shit!" Anna sputtered when she came up. The guests laughed and hollered, watching as she splashed him, then tackled him, the two of them twisting back and forth in the water before he got a hold of her and kissed her soundly. She laughed and kissed him back, her arms going around his neck as they swam about.

"Did you ever imagine they would end up like this when we first introduced them?" Matthew asked, shaking his head in wonder at the loving couple.

"Not right away, no, but actually I knew Anna was quite besotted rather quickly. Their second date she stayed out with him until 2 or 3 in the morning I think, just talking. I'd never seen her do that with any man before," Mary recalled, smiling as she watched her friend climb up on her husband's back as he carried her around the pool.

"He told me at the end of the first week that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her," he admitted, laughing incredulously. "I told him all the potential problems they might face – distance mostly – but he was adamant. 'She's the one for me,' he said."

Mary turned and looked at Matthew, her eyebrow arching with curiosity. "He was quite confident even then, was he? Why do you suppose that was? He barely knew her."

"I don't know. Maybe it was all those late night conversations. They were rather inseparable, right from the off," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess for Alex, all the possible issues weren't problems to him. They were just…things he had to do to be with her."

She swallowed nervously. "Rather than think of how difficult things might get, he just got on with it, because he knew she was worth it."

He nodded slowly. "And here they are."

She smiled bravely. "They're one of the lucky ones."

"They are," he agreed.

She looked around the yard. Anna and Alex had both gotten out of the pool and were saying goodbye to some of the guests, the party thinning out now in the late afternoon.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring Lavinia," she blurted out, searching for something to fill the silence. "Our schedule is so hectic that we won't have much free time in the next while."

He frowned. "Why would I…" He stopped suddenly, his eyes going wide. "Oh! No, no, no, Lavinia isn't…no…there's nothing…I'm not…involved with Lavinia. She's just a friend, is all."

She shook her head in surprise. "Oh. Oh! God, I'm sorry. I just assumed because you spent time together, with your spinning class and your…erm…well, I see…"

He smiled, shaking his head in amusement. "No. She's engaged, actually, to someone named…erm…I want to say David, or something like that. He's from Liverpool. I think she's up at a cottage with him and some friends for the weekend. She invited me along, but I told her I already had plans."

"Ah," she said, hoping she wasn't blushing as fiercely as she felt she was. "I suppose it would have been rather inconvenient for Alex to find another bartender."

He chuckled at that. "That's true. And I had other good reasons to come."

She felt her pulse jump as his eyes locked on hers.

"Mary," Anna called.

"Yes!" Mary exclaimed, her head snapping up quickly to look at Anna standing on the pool deck behind Matthew.

"Everyone else is leaving to go down to the beach and watch the fireworks. We're just going to stay here. You're welcome to hang around if you like. We've got plenty of food. You too, Matthew," she said, looking at them curiously.

"That sounds lovely," Mary replied. "I'll just go and rinse off. Can you help?"

"Sure," Anna said. "Come on in the house."

Matthew watched Mary lift herself out of the pool, the water sliding down her body as she stood up and followed Anna across the patio and back to the house. He took a slow stroke away from the wall, the yard seeming much emptier now. Closing his eyes, he swam an easy length of the pool, trying to calm his nerves and unscramble his mind.

* * *

"You all right?" Anna asked, watching as Mary finished drying her hair and unfolded her sarong to a wrap that fell past her knees, tying it at her shoulder and waist.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Mary asked distractedly, fumbling with the clasps.

"You just seemed to be having a rather nice chat with Matthew," Anna mentioned.

"If you must know, we were talking about you," Mary retorted. "About you and your husband and what a wonderful marriage you have."

Anna grinned and looked down at the tiled floor of the bathroom.

"Don't be so coy. I'm happy for you, darling, truly," Mary said earnestly. "You've found that balance that everyone wants."

"I found a good man," Anna stated, looking back at Mary. "I'm very lucky."

"Indeed. There aren't many of them around, I'll tell you that," Mary said, laughing ruefully.

"I think there's someone outside that would disagree with you, rather," Anna said pointedly.

Mary closed her eyes and shook her head. "Anna, please. I'm not in the mood for this."

"He flew back to England for you," Anna pressed. "That isn't something that work colleagues do. Henry certainly wouldn't."

"He would if he thought it would help him get me into bed," Mary grumbled. "Look, Matthew and I have history. We always will. He went back to Downton for Granny and his mother as much as anything else, and now we're back here, back to the real world, our real lives. I don't have any claim to him, and I shouldn't. After what I did to him, that's not a proper foundation upon which to build a lasting union."

"He's not with Lavinia, you know," Anna stated.

Mary blinked, her mouth falling open in surprise. "Yes, he told me. How did you know?"

"I asked Alex," Anna said easily. "I expected there was a reason why you suddenly took such an interest in a production assistant that you only met a couple of times."

Mary smiled and shook her head. "You know me far too well."

"Yes, I do, and I know how you really feel about Matthew," Anna continued. "You should tell him, you know. He would be quite receptive, I'm sure."

Mary rolled her eyes and tossed her towel into the hamper. "Of course he would be, and that's why I must be the mature one, the smart one. We would be good together, great together even, but then he would bring up how I rejected him every time we argued, and he would think that by wanting him back that I want to marry him, and honestly I don't even know if I want to get married right now. Not to mention, what will happen when we're done filming and I go back to the show and he's looking for his next project? There's just…too much that could go wrong. Too much in our past. Too much baggage."

"Well, I don't think you're giving him enough credit, or yourself for that matter," Anna replied. "Take it from an old wife – love, marriage, it doesn't come easily. It requires work and compromise, and sometimes just accepting that you'll disagree and there's no way around it. If you're waiting for the perfect man who will never argue with you and that you'll never fight with, I'll tell you right now, he doesn't exist."

"Goodness, what a testimonial," Mary said wryly. "And you're hardly an 'old wife'. What's your point?"

"You're meant to be together, you and Matthew. That doesn't mean you will be, and it doesn't mean it will come easily, but you love him, he loves you. That's a better start than most get, and I think you owe it to yourself to give it a real go. And I'm not saying that because he's Alex's best friend, or because I think you need to make amends for anything you did before. I'm saying it because you deserve to be happy, and you're happy when you're with him. We both know that."

Mary sighed, leaning on the marble counter and staring at herself in the mirror.

"Is that all there is to it, do you think?" she whispered, seeing the ember of hope in her own eyes. "We could be happy together, so we should try?"

Anna came over and put her hand on Mary's shoulder, drawing her attention. "You could be happy together, so you should fight."

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, Canada Day, July 1, 2016**

The evening had ended with the four of them gathered around the backyard firepit, a plan to roast marshmallows going horribly awry, but they still had plenty of drinks, and strawberries and pineapple, and more than enough laughter and good cheer to go around. Anna snuggled against Alex on a lounge chair, and Mary and Matthew each took a recliner, and they sat around drinking and chatting. Once the sky was dark enough, Alex declared he had a trove of fireworks that they could set off. Despite numerous protests from the ladies, and indignant boasts from the men, they did launch them, the resulting explosions being far bigger than Anna and Mary had expected and far smaller than Alex and Matthew had hoped for. With the late hour, Anna declared that Mary needed to get to bed or else she'd be useless for early call the next morning. Matthew said he would go as well and so, after jubilant hugs and kisses for their lovely hosts, they shared an Uber back downtown.

They were mostly silent during the drive, sitting a respectable distance apart, looking out the windows. Mary pondered her dilemma, weighing the encouragement of Carson and Anna against all the cons that her mind recited with ease. On days like today, it was easy to love Matthew. On days like today, when he looked gorgeous, showing off his body, laughing and flirting with her, neither of them having a care in the world, she could envision a lifetime with him so rosy and inviting that all she had to do was reach out and grab it.

But then she would think about what his reaction would be if she decided to film a movie on location somewhere far away, like Iceland or Spain, and be gone from him for six months at a time. Would they fight if she accepted a role opposite some hunk of a leading man in a movie that called for a steamy love scene? Would she be fair enough to not get angry herself if he was cast opposite some hot little actress with big tits and a tight ass? Was she ready to put up with her parents' likely relieved reaction if they got back together? Would she be able to convince Isobel, who surely detested her, that this time would be different? Was she even sure herself that it would be?

So she stayed quiet all the way to her building, thankful that he seemed to be too tired or preoccupied to chat much either. When the SUV reached the driveway and the valet came forward to open her door, she turned to Matthew and lightly kissed his cheek.

"I'll see you in the morning," she said.

"I'll be there," he replied.

They shared a polite smile and she was gone, nodding to the valet, the doorman and the concierge on her way to the elevator. The day with Matthew had been wonderful, and she would cherish it, but now it was over with and finished, and tomorrow it was back to work.


	8. Chapter 8

**Previously:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, Canada Day, July 1, 2016**

But then she would think about what his reaction would be if she decided to film a movie on location somewhere far away, like Iceland, or Spain, and be gone from him for six months at a time. Would they fight if she accepted a role opposite some hunk of a leading man in a movie that called for a steamy love scene? Would she be fair enough to not get angry herself if he was cast opposite some hot little actress with big tits and a tight ass? Was she ready to put up with her parents' likely relieved reaction if they got back together? Would she be able to convince Isobel, who surely detested her, that this time would be different? Was she even sure herself that it would be?

So she stayed quiet all the way to her building, thankful that he seemed to be too tired or preoccupied to chat much either. When the SUV reached the driveway and the valet came forward to open her door, she turned to Matthew and lightly kissed his cheek.

"I'll see you in the morning," she said.

"I'll be there," he replied.

They shared a polite smile and she was gone, nodding to the valet, the doorman and the concierge on her way to the elevator. The day with Matthew had been wonderful, and she would cherish it, but now it was over with and finished, and tomorrow it was back to work.

 **Chapter 8:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, Canada Day, July 1, 2016**

"It's his life. Not yours," Anna said, trying to keep her voice even, though annoyance bubbled inside of her. "As his friend, you're supposed to support him."

"That's bullshit," Alex said tightly, frowning as he scrubbed some burnt sweet and sour sauce off of the roasting pan in the sink. "As his friend, I'm supposed to tell him when he's being an idiot, which is something I do a lot of, unfortunately, especially when it comes to his ex."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at his back from her perch, seated on the kitchen island. "Babes, you know they belong together. Come on."

He grunted before replying. "She rejected him, love," he said tightly. "He asked her to marry him and she said no. She not only said no, she up and left him, moved to another country practically halfway around the world. It's shocking they're even still friends after all that."

"We're hardly halfway around the world," she replied drily.

"Whatever," he retorted. "Why should he let her back in? Why should he open himself up again to be destroyed by her? And don't say this time will be different!"

"I think this time will be different!" she shot back, her voice rising. "She knows what life is like without him now. She knows what she gave up. She won't do that again so easily."

"She seemed to give up their arrangement pretty easily," he noted.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "She was trying to be professional, mature, not mix work life with personal. I don't think she actually wanted to give him up, not to mention it was his idea to begin with."

"And yet she did give him up. I want Mary to be happy, but she can't get out of her own way, can't just come out and say what she really wants, or feels," he grumbled. "And that ends up messing up both of them"

"And he can?" she asked sarcastically. "They're a pair, those two. That's why you shouldn't be so against him considering trying again with her."

"You didn't see what it did to him the first time," he said, shaking his head as he scrubbed the pan with renewed vigour. "He was broken, Anna. He imagined a life, a future with her, and she ruined everything."

"And he hasn't been happy since, and neither has she, not really," she argued. "Their past is their past. If he wants a future with her now, then who are you to dissuade him? She might be good for him, you know? She's not going to just use him."

"But you can't guarantee that she'll stay with him this time," he said, glaring at her over his shoulder.

"No, of course I can't. No one can be sure about anyone," she admitted, frowning at him.

"Exactly," he said heatedly. "There's no guarantees, ever. So why would he bet on someone who has already played with him once, all for some dream that may never come true?"

Anna stared at him in confusion as he continued on with the dishes. She couldn't even understand why he was washing the dishes by hand when they had a perfectly good dishwasher sitting right next to where he stood. She looked at his tense shoulders, the muscles of his bare back tight and taut. He was still wearing his bathing trunks, she her bikini. Mary and Matthew had helped them clean up a bit before they left, mainly bringing in all the used plates, serving platters and cutlery, and collecting all the garbage and recycling. She thought she would now get to relax with her husband, but he'd gone straight back to the kitchen, mentioning how Matthew seemed rather taken with Mary the entire party. When she innocently suggested they might be getting back together, his brooding soon followed.

She blinked as her mind cleared, her annoyance dissolving. Shaking her head, she hopped down from the island and came over and hugged him, her arms circling his waist from behind. She kissed his bare back and turned her head to rest her cheek against him.

"Babes, we're married now," she said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"What? Of course you're not. I know that," he muttered.

She came around to his side and turned off the tap, taking the brush away from him and leaving it in the sink. He slowly turned and looked at her. She reached up and framed his face with her hands.

"I love you," she said, holding his guarded stare. "I've loved you since those first two weeks when we met. You're my husband. You're going to be the father of my children. I'm not Mary. I'm not going to leave you, ever. Do you understand?"

He frowned, then huffed. "I…I wasn't talking about us," he mumbled.

"Maybe not, but that's what's got you so worked up. You don't want to see Matthew hurt, and you also don't want me getting any stupid ideas from her, am I right?" she said.

He sighed and relaxed a bit, his hands moving to hold her hips. "I want them to be happy, love. I do. But I'm just afraid that he doesn't think straight when it comes to her."

"Are you saying that you think straight when it comes to me?" she teased, pulling him down into a playful kiss.

"You make me sound needy and pathetic," he complained, kissing her back.

"You are needy," she said, laughing and kissing him again and again. "You are a...very...needy...sweet...wonderful...sexy man...and you're all mine. Don't you ever forget it."

"Sexy, eh?" he said, smirking against her lips as his hands reached down to cup her bottom.

"Mmm hmm," she said, kissing him soundly. "Very sexy."

He hummed in surprise and growing desire as she kissed her way down his body, every touch of her lips and tongue accompanied by a sultry whisper.

"So...very...very...very...sexy..." she said, falling to her knees and dropping his bathing suit to the floor.

He grunted when she took hold of him and stroked and kissed him to full arousal. He groaned out loud, his hands reaching out to the counter and the island on either side of him for purchase to keep himself upright when she took him into her mouth.

"Oh God, Anna," he choked out as she pleasured him, the warmth of her mouth erasing all traces of his anger from mere moments ago. Closing his eyes, he revelled in the sounds she made, the feel of her on him. Married for over two years, together for over four, and he still couldn't believe his incredible good luck. He mustered enough control to open his eyes, then almost lost it when he looked down at what she was doing.

"Feel good?" she asked, drawing back and smiling up at him.

He just nodded before reaching down and scooping her up off the floor. They kissed urgently as he placed her on the island and pushed her down onto her back. His fingers tugged hard at the ties of her bikini. She helped him strip her naked, then moaned loudly as he lifted her legs to his shoulders and spread her open, giving her a devilish leer before he feasted on her with his lips and tongue.

"Alex!" she yelped, her hands reaching above her head and grabbing hold of the edge of the island, hanging on as he relentlessly built her up and sent her flying without pause or mercy. Her back arched and she raised her hips to his mouth, moaning and whimpering as he licked her lightly through her release. When she seemed to recover a bit, he moved his mouth up to tease her spot, while his fingers plunged inside of her, quickly bringing her to another peak.

She was breathing heavily when he climbed up onto the island with her. Hooking her legs around his waist, she stared up at him in anticipation as he moved on top of her. They both groaned when he thrust deep, the feel of him almost setting her off again. She clumsily found his mouth, her tongue playing with his, tasting herself over and over. Sharp cries flew from her throat as he took her hard, every stroke of his hips met by hers in reply.

The hard granite of the island was cool against her back, his naked body warm and covering hers. His chest rubbed against her breasts, his hands sliding up her arms and pinning her wrists to the countertop. Her cries of encouragement drove him to a faster rhythm. He kissed her lips, her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, anywhere he could reach, his hips changing cadence from fast stabs to slower, more deliberate, hard, deep thrusts.

"Anna, oh love," he groaned into her blonde hair.

"I love you, I love you, oh fuck, so good!" she gasped, licking his ear.

He released her arms, raising up to get better leverage for his last strokes, his release fast approaching. He felt her squeeze him over and over and he shouted as he pushed into her once more and let go. She moaned with every shot, taking all that he could give.

He didn't collapse on her, instead, turning onto his side, mindful not to fall off the counter with her still clinging to him. They snuggled together, trying to catch their breath, both of them sweaty and sated.

"Mmm, well," she gasped once she found her voice again, kissing his neck and nuzzling against him. "We can check the kitchen island off the list, finally."

"And you thought it was wider than necessary when we had it installed," he said, chuckling and kissing the top of her head.

"I was referring to using it for food prep and eating," she said, nudging him in the ribs. "My mind isn't full of depraved thoughts like my husband's."

"Are you saying you never thought of doing it on the island? Not once?" he teased.

"I didn't say that, now did I?" she retorted.

Eventually, lying on top of the island became quite uncomfortable, so he unwound his limbs from hers, stood back up and helped her down. Holding his hand, she led him through the living room, into the foyer, and up the stairs.

"I've still got the dishes to do," he said playfully, admiring her arse as they went up.

"The dishes can wait until morning," she said, smiling at him playfully. "Showering with your wife and taking her to bed cannot."

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, Canada Day, July 1, 2016**

Mary swallowed, looking at the tiled floor as she made her way to the elevator and stepped inside. She swiped her keycard across the scanner and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes as the day caught up to her. Tomorrow it was back to work, and she felt relieved. She could focus on that – the work – head back to the safety of the set, where she and Matthew were mere colleagues, two actors working together to bring a scene to life. Safe. Controlled. Proper. No temptations. No overstepping boundaries.

She opened her eyes and looked up suddenly at the sound of the doors jolting just before they could close fully. A large hand flashed between them, the safety sensors forcing the doors back open. She blinked in shock as Matthew appeared on the threshold and stepped inside.

"Matthew, what are you...?" she began, then looked past him and saw the concerned glance of the concierge. She smiled and waved. "It's all right, Clarence. I know him. Good night."

"Good night, Lady Mary," the concierge said, eyeing Matthew suspiciously.

The doors closed and the elevator began its ascent. She looked at Matthew questioningly.

"You still love me," he said, his voice calm and even.

"What?" she sputtered, her eyes widening.

"Violet. She said so. 'Mary is still in love with you' she said," he stated.

She shook her head in confusion, looking at him as though he had three heads. "Classic Granny. Matthew, she was obviously stuck in 2010 or whatever year she thought it was in her head. She didn't mean anything by it."

"I thought so too, but she kept repeating it, and she told me to not give up, to keep trying, because it would be worth it in the end. I thought she was giving me career advice, but now I'm not so sure," he explained.

They were surprised by the cheerful chirp of the chime and the opening of the elevator doors, signalling their arrival to her floor.

"Matthew, you must pay no attention to the things she said while we were there. I know I didn't. Now, it's late and I'm tired. Good night. I'll see you in the morning," she said quickly, brushing past him and going out into the hall.

He trailed after her.

"Why did you ask me why I didn't bring Lavinia to the party?" he demanded, following her to her door.

"What?" she responded, bringing her keycard to the door lock and fumbling it on to the floor. "Damn."

Matthew bent down and picked it up for her. He reached over and unlocked her door, then opened it for her.

"Thanks," she mumbled, stepping inside and turning on the lights.

"Why did you ask me why I didn't bring Lavinia to the party? Why did you care?" he asked, closing and locking the door behind him.

"I was just making idle chat," she said shakily, walking away from him and into the living room. "I didn't actually care if Lavinia was there or not."

"But you thought she would be," he noted. "You thought that I would bring her as my date, that we were involved."

"Yes, and I was mistaken. What does that have to do with anything?" she said, turning to face him.

He observed her for a moment, taking in her flushed cheeks, her pursed lips, her eyes that seemed to dart here and there, but never meeting his.

"I think that you were jealous," he said finally. "I think you were digging for information, trying to see how serious things had become between Lavinia and I, wondering what our relationship was."

"That's ridiculous," she scoffed, finally meeting his eyes. "We have no claim to each other anymore, as I keep telling you. You can date whoever you want. I wouldn't think that seeing a production assistant of a movie you're working on is the smartest choice, but you're free to do as you wish."

He smiled at her comment, taking a step towards her.

"You know, this connection between us, the ease and comfort we have now, I thought it was just two colleagues getting along as they went through the creative process. Just two actors on the same page and enjoying their work," he said.

"That's exactly what it is. That's exactly who we are," she said pointedly, arching her eyebrow at him, but swallowing as he drew closer.

"That's who you want us to be, because it's safer that way," he continued.

"Safe? I don't care about being safe," she retorted, frowning at her unintended choice of words. "It's not something I think about, I mean. Besides, what's so unsafe about you?"

"Plenty," he said confidently. "I think you're scared. I think you're scared of losing me. I think you're scared of admitting to yourself that there's still something here, something that you've tried to forget for the past how ever many years, but it keeps coming back. You felt it when we had our arrangement, and you feel it now."

"If you are referring to base urges, then fine, I'll admit it. You're great in bed. We have...we had...amazing sex together. It's no secret. That doesn't mean I care about who you date or anything else about your personal life," she sputtered. "We had our fun, and now that's finished."

"You're lying. We were never just a fling," he said, drawing within a step of her. "You're a brilliant actress, but not a good enough liar to pull this off, apparently."

"God, what are you talking about?" she said with plenty of exasperation. "You think just because Granny mentioned something offhand while in her frazzled condition, it means that I'm still in love with you somehow? Stop and listen to what you're saying, won't you? It's over, Matthew. I ended it, remember?"

He swallowed and blinked at the painful memory, but pressed on.

"It's not over for me," he said firmly. "It's never been. I wanted it to be, at first, tried to convince myself that it was, but it's not."

"Oh, Matthew," she said, sighing and shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but…"

"I love you," he said, silencing her immediately. Her eyes snapped up to his. He kept her stare as he went on, his voice firm. "I love you. I never stopped loving you. You can come up with all the excuses and rationalizations that you want to call it something else, but I still love you, and this...whatever this is…it isn't just two colleagues working well together. Today, at the barbecue, when we laughed and flirted with each other, and enjoyed being together, it wasn't just you being polite, or kind. Back at Downton, the time we spent together wasn't us just playing out some false front for Violet's sake."

"What is it all, then?" she demanded, her pulse jumping as she glared at him. "You're mad if you think that I could reject your proposal and still be in love with you. What kind of idiot would turn down the man she supposedly loved?"

"Someone who thought she had no other choice," he answered, his voice softer. "Someone who was given an unfair and unjust ultimatum, told to pick love, or her career, made to think she couldn't have both. Someone put in an impossible position, who did the only thing she thought she could to avoid a lifetime of regret and resentment."

Her lip quivered as she heard his words, saw the conviction in his blue eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"I was wrong," he confessed. "I wanted to marry you, wanted to build a life with you, but I went about it all wrong. I saw your opportunity to come here as a threat and I panicked. The reason I made light of it, the reason that I told you nothing could ever come of it, was because I was afraid of losing you. I should have had more faith in you, in us, but I didn't. I made you feel as though I was only proposing to stop you from leaving, when nothing could have been further from the truth."

"Matthew, please," she pleaded, her voice catching, the tears welling in her eyes.

He reached out and took her hands in his. She didn't stop him or pull back.

"I love you, Mary," he repeated. "I see now all that you've done, all that you've achieved, all that you have to be so proud of, and I know that you made the right decision. I should have supported you more back then, believed that we could make it work, encouraged you to chase your dream and done everything in my power to help you reach it. I didn't do any of those things and tried to make you stay in England when here was where you belonged. I realize what mistakes I made. I don't want to pressure you now, or trap you, or scare you away. But I'm through pretending. I'm through lying, to you, to myself. I don't care if it makes me seem weak or foolish. I love you, and I know you love me. If ever you want to try again, I'll be waiting and ready. We can go at your pace, your rules, whatever you need. I love you and I want to be with you, and nothing will change that, not for me."

He raised her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers, slowly lowering them back down and releasing them. She looked at him in disbelief, his confident and smug expression making her feel warm in all the right places, despite the nervous tremors coursing through her.

"Good night, my darling," he whispered, nodding his head and turning for the door.

Her throat felt dry, her hands cold and clammy. Her feet wouldn't move, a million thoughts flying through her mind in seconds, then vanishing just as quickly. Panic gripped her chest as she watched him go.

"Matthew," she called out, stopping him. He turned around and looked at her expectantly.

"I…" she said, gasping for breath. The words flowed from her lips in a mad rush, as though her heart was urging her to pour out everything before her brain made her shut her feelings off again.

"I can't promise you anything. I don't know what the future holds," she babbled. "I know I can be selfish and oblivious to everyone and everything around me, and I don't expect that to change anytime soon. I still have ambitions, great ambitions, and I am determined as ever to have the career that I want. Sometimes I want it so badly that I feel I'll go through anyone and anything to get it, damn the consequences. I know I'll be unfair with you. I'll get angry when I see you kissing another woman on screen or posing for selfies with your female fans. I know it's wrong, but I won't care. I'll be irrational and immature about that and other things, I just know it."

He smiled and moved towards her, nodding his head calmly.

"Your mother hates me for rejecting your proposal, I'm sure, and she'll be scared I'll hurt you again. Even Alex, he doesn't want you anywhere near me, I suspect, and why would he after what happened between us? You say you'll wait, and I will make you wait, I know I will. I'm not ready for marriage, not yet, and I can't even tell you right at this moment when I expect that I will be. If you're looking to pick up where we left off before, then I'll just disappoint you. I'm not that same woman anymore. I've changed. You've changed, too," she said, shaking her head as he came before her.

He reached out and touched her shoulder, running his hand up her neck to caress her cheek, the warmth of his palm soothing and familiar. She smiled weakly at his touch, her eyes looking up at his.

"Do you love me?" he asked, his voice quiet but intensely serious.

She swallowed nervously, then finally nodded her head.

"Do you love me?" he asked again, a grin filling his face.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Yes?" he asked, his eyes bright and his smile wide.

"Yes, Matthew," she said louder, relief and joy fluttering in her chest. "I love you. I love you. God, I can barely remember a time that I didn't love you."

She laughed as he leaned forward and kissed her, his lips pressing against her softly at first, then more firmly as she kissed him back, her arms reaching up and wrapping around his neck. She felt his hands move down and take hold of her hips, pulling her closer. She arched her back and tilted her head, sliding her tongue against his as they both hummed in satisfaction. She was in his arms again, for real this time, and it felt absolutely glorious.

Still, after numerous blissful kisses, she drew back slightly, needing to stop herself from getting anymore swept up in the moment, not without being entirely clear with him.

"I meant what I said. Every word," she warned him, kissing him lightly, then looking up at him with concern, checking to see if his eyes would betray even the smallest hint of anger or sadness.

"So did I," he shot back, smirking before kissing her again.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, July 2016**

"The flight is just over five hours," Anna said, showing Mary her tablet as they walked from the soundstage to her trailer. "We can get you there by 10:22 in the morning, but I don't think it's wise to just fly in on the same day. If there's a delay, you might not make it in time for the afternoon session. If we fly in the day before, you get in at 2:42 in the afternoon, San Diego time, which gives you the rest of the day to adjust, deal with your wardrobe and such, you have the entire next day at the convention, with the panel in the afternoon. I'd rather fly out the same evening on the red-eye, but you have to make an appearance at the _Entertainment Weekly_ closing party Saturday night. So, we leave Sunday morning at 11:05, land in Toronto at 7 at night, and you have all of Monday to recover before coming back to set for Tuesday afternoon."

"Mmm," Mary said, glancing at the itinerary on the screen. "That sounds good."

Anna blinked, looking at her curiously. "So, I'll book it, then?"

"Yes, perfect," Mary said, nodding and smiling. "Does this plane have the pods in business class?"

"Actually, it's an Air Canada Rouge flight, so the seats are next to each other, two by two across," Anna said, bringing up the seat map for the plane on her tablet so Mary could see.

"Ah, oh well. Just get our seats together, then," Mary replied easily. "And…"

"Give you the window. Will do," Anna confirmed, swiping her fingers over her tablet as they reached the trailer. She stood aside and waited for Mary to go in first.

"Erm…I'm just going to check in with Matthew about the next scene," Mary said. "I'll be back in a bit."

"All right, you've got an hour," Anna said, watching her turn and head off in the direction of Matthew's trailer.

"Understood!" Mary said cheerfully, waving her hand and taking off.

Anna stared at her retreating form, then shook her head and went into the trailer.

* * *

Matthew blinked and opened his eyes at the sound of the knock on his door. He turned his head, lifting up slightly from the pillow.

"Come in!" he called, not wanting to get up fully.

The door opened and Mary slipped in, a smile on her face as she shut the door behind her and came over to him.

"Hi," he said, smiling up at her as she sat down next to him.

"Hello," she said before leaning down and kissing him playfully.

"Mmm, what a lovely surprise," he noted, taking her hand in his. "I didn't think I'd see you until later."

"I told Anna that I needed to check with you on something for the next scene," Mary said, arching her eyebrow conspiratorially. "I could spend the entire hour here if you like."

"I like," he said, nodding eagerly and pulling her down into another kiss.

She savoured the taste of him, a thrill rushing through her as she kissed him, knowing this was allowed now. They were back together, boyfriend and girlfriend, or whatever label they wanted to use. Everything was permitted.

She pulled back, ignoring her quickening pulse and her warming desire. She wanted to reach into his jeans and stroke him, take him into her mouth, strip him naked and mount him, ride him until they both fell apart, then do it all over again. Being without him for these past months had been far more torturous than she realized, and seeing him lying here, completely available to her, was filling her head with all manner of wicked ideas.

But she resisted, caressing his cheek instead as she calmed herself.

"I think we need to talk, properly," she stated, her voice still warm and reassuring. "We didn't really get the chance with all the making out we did last night."

"All right, what would you like to discuss?" he asked, a stupid grin still on his face.

"About last night, and about us, and about what we're doing," she advised. "I want to tell Anna that we're back together, and Sybil and Edith, and my parents, but I also want to make sure we know exactly what this is, first. I don't want to make the same mistakes we made before, even if some of the smaller ones are probably inevitable. I don't want either of us to assume anything without communicating it clearly. I don't want us to take anything for granted, not this time."

"Well, I must take one thing for granted," he teased. "That I will love you until the last breath leaves my body."

She smiled widely, squeezing her thighs together to quell her arousal. God, this man! When did he decide to use his wit and brains to become confident, suave and seductive?

"I love you too," she said immediately, not wanting to let his sweet declaration go unanswered. "But that's what I want to talk about. You know, probably better than most, that I'm not very…well…expressive. I don't fawn over anyone. I don't gush and make sweet declarations and sing anyone's praises."

"I know," he said, nodding his head. "At least not outside the bedroom, anyway."

She arched her eyebrow and slapped his chest lightly, drawing a laugh from him before she continued.

"That doesn't mean I don't love you. It's just that I don't think about doing all the things to show it the way you do. I've probably gotten worse at all that since coming over here, if I'm honest," she admitted.

"I understand," he said, smiling at her easily.

"It isn't as though I'll never show you," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's just that when I get really busy, or stressed out, or whatever, I'm just in my own world and I won't have any time for you. It's going to be hard for me to let you in fully right away when I've been on my own for years now."

"Fair enough," he replied. "We'll figure it out as we go along."

She frowned at him suspiciously.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Erm…well…I don't want to get married right now. I…haven't thought about marriage at all. When you proposed, I did consider it, but that was years ago and so much has changed," she said nervously.

"I'm not asking you to marry me," he said lightly.

She blinked. "I don't want you to think that I...wait, what? You're not?"

"Not yet, no," he replied, still smiling. "Did you hear a proposal from me last night?"

"No, but we're back together now, and we left things off at your proposal, so if we're picking things up again, then surely you…" she reasoned.

"We're not picking things up again," he said, his voice as warm as his eyes. "This is new. Completely, entirely brand new. We're different people. We're in a different city, a different country, living different lives. We're back together, yes, but everything between us in the past is exactly that – in the past – and we can leave it there and move forward together. You don't want any assumptions. Neither do I. You want us to communicate more. I think that's a capital idea. You don't want to get married…yet. Fine. I want us to get to know each other again, get comfortable being together, face all the realities that our different lives involve before we make any long-term plans."

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish for a few seconds, searching for something else to say.

"You don't look entirely convinced," he noted, smirking at her.

"I just wonder if you really know what you're getting yourself into by being with me," she said.

"Darling," he said, looking at her playfully. "Are you quite sure you know what you're getting yourself into by being with me?"

She arched her eyebrow at him warily, then relaxed and smirked.

"I think that in many ways, we've changed, yes," he continued. "But I'd like to think there are some things, the truly important things about us, that have remained the same. We loved each other once. We love each other now. We needn't compare the two. All we need to do is enjoy the time we have together, and work - constantly - to keep each other happy. That means being who we are now, loving who we are now, living with who we are now, not who we were."

"Well, there are some things from our past that I wouldn't mind carrying forward," she said.

"Such as?" he asked.

"I don't quite know how to talk about this sort of thing, even with you. But, when we were carrying on our…arrangement…you were…very good. Very good. I…was quite surprised. You were better than before, and I…" she struggled, her cheeks flushing. "I liked it."

"You enjoyed how I…was more assertive?" he asked.

"Yes," she said softly, nodding her head.

"You liked how I would…take control more often?" he suggested.

"Yes," she confirmed, daring to meet his eyes, her pulse racing. _God, just throw me down and fuck me right now._

"I'll remember that," he said, kissing her lips lightly, then her fingers. "Now, if we're done with all of that rather serious talk, why don't you go back and see Anna, and have a bit of a kip? I'm about to pass out myself, I think. Will you come and get me in an hour?"

She smiled and nodded. "Sending me away already, are you?"

"I think we both know that if you stay here much longer, we won't get any rest at all, and as enjoyable as that would be, I don't think I want to explain to Thea why we're both tired and why your clothes are torn," he said.

She swallowed and shivered with desire.

"Because they would be torn, darling," he promised, staring at her devilishly. "They would be absolutely ripped to shreds by the time I was through with you."

She leaned over and kissed him again, then rose as gracefully as she could manage.

"I'll see you later," she said, smiling at him before turning and leaving his trailer. She practically ran back to hers, eager to surprise Anna with her wonderful news.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 2016**

"So you said you loved him, and then what? Did he scoop you up and take you to bed?" Sybil asked breathlessly.

"Sybil!" Mary hissed, glaring at the tablet screen.

Edith laughed.

"I did not sleep with him, thank you," Mary said haughtily. "I told him I loved him. We kissed and he went back to his. We had a very good talk today and we're going to just take this one step at a time, not put too much pressure on ourselves and enjoy being together again. And no, he's not sleeping over tonight, so we're not having sex yet. Who knows when it will happen? I'm sure when the time is right, we'll do it. It's not like we haven't before."

"But you do want to, don't you?" Sybil asked suspiciously.

"Of course I want to!" Mary blurted out.

Edith laughed again.

"This…whatever this is between us…it's not just picking up where we left off before. It's like we're back to dating for the first time, but we're far more comfortable with each other. I can't even point to anything specific that's different between us, but it just feels different."

"Different as in better?" Edith asked.

"Yes," Mary said, smiling and nodding. "Much better. I guess I just want to enjoy being with him without the expectation of having to perform, or live up to the prior versions of ourselves."

"Oh, good on you, both of you!" Sybil said, clapping her hands. "I always knew you would get back together, I knew it!"

Mary couldn't help but grin at her sister's enthusiasm.

"What do you want me to tell Mum and Dad?" Edith asked. "You know they'll ask me at some point about what's going on with you two. They'll try and appear casual about it, but I know Mum's curious since you seemed so in tune with each other when you were here. They haven't brought it up yet, but it should be any day now."

"You can tell them that we're dating again," Mary said, nodding her head. "Tell Mum that I don't want to be bothered about it, and that she shouldn't tell Isobel until Matthew's had a chance to talk to her first, but you can tell them, yes."

"I can't wait to come up next month! No more seeing you separately, no more watching what I say around each of you. Oh, this is fantastic," Sybil squealed.

"Since when do you ever watch what you say?" Edith joked.

Mary laughed and took a sip of her tea.

"All right, enough about me. Edith, how's Bertie?" Mary asked.

"He's due back from Tangier tomorrow," Edith said, nodding and smiling. "He says that the factory's up and running and so far, so good. He's quite desperate to get home."

"Obviously, he would be. Are you going to give him a proper welcome?" Sybil teased.

"I'm going to London for the week, yes," Edith said, looking away from the camera and smiling.

"The two of you should fly over next month and visit," Mary suggested. "I can pass Sybil off to you when she gets on my nerves."

"Hey! I'm not that bad!" Sybil protested.

Edith and Mary laughed knowingly.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, July 2016**

"Matthew! Hi! I thought everyone was meeting at catering?" Natalie said cheerfully, smiling at him from the door of her trailer.

"Hi," Matthew replied. "Yeah, I just wanted to come over first and pass along my condolences for Margery."

Natalie laughed and stepped down, patting him on the shoulder as they headed towards the catering area. "Ah, so you finally saw the finale? Thank you. Thank you. Now do you see why I couldn't tell you anything?"

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head. "That ending was...savage."

"Well, Cersei is quite the bitch," she joked.

"I know that everyone is fair game, but I still was quite shocked," he admitted. "So, are you truly finished, then?"

She laughed and looked at him teasingly. "What do you think?"

"Well, one can never be sure when talking about _Game of Thrones_ ," he said. "Maybe you escaped, somehow."

She smiled and shook her head. "No, I'm done. I talked to them about it and it was already planned well in advance. I'm actually quite relieved, in a way. It was an amazing role, but between the show and _Hunger Games_ , I've been involved lately with projects that have rather passionate fans. It'll be nice to get back to original material without the heavy weight of expectations."

"You don't think we'll have a rabid following once this movie comes out?" he asked, smiling at her.

"One can only hope," she said. "I'll miss Comic-Con, though. It's always good fun. Mary's going, right?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I'm sure she'll have a blast. So what's next for you? It must seem strange to not have another season to shoot."

"Oh, I'm quite busy. I start shooting my next film in September, so I really won't have much time off for quite a while," she revealed. "I can't wait. It's the one I was telling you about that I wrote the screenplay for. We hardly have any time to squeeze it in, but that's all right. Being busy is good, and being scary busy can be good motivation."

"Right," he agreed. "And what was it like writing the script with your other half?"

She laughed and shook her head. "I wouldn't recommend it, I'll tell you! There were a lot of angry words on the way home each night! But, we got through it and now I'm just so excited to get on set. When you know how the overall machine works, there's a bit of a thrill in seeing something through from beginning to end."

"I can imagine," he said, admiring her enthusiasm.

"You should get out there and see about lining up your next job too, Matthew," she said encouragingly. "Mary's fine, of course, because she's got _Paladin_ already lined up, but now's a good time for you to try and leverage this role into something else. Casting directors look at you differently when they know you've got a new project on the go, particularly a decent one like this."

"To be honest, I've barely thought about what's next. I've been so busy trying to do my best with this one," he admitted.

"Fair enough," she said kindly. "Just be mindful. We're working actors, and all that."

He nodded as they reached the cafeteria and went to look over the lunch options.

 **GoodLife Fitness, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 2016**

 _"To help me announce the Emmy nominations this morning are two of our finest actors. She is best known for her iconic role in the WB series, Gilmore Girls, and is currently in production on its highly anticipated revival for Netflix. And he stars in ABC's critically acclaimed hit comedy, Black-ish, which earned him an Emmy Award nomination last season. Please welcome Lauren Graham and Anthony Anderson…"_

Matthew took a sip of his sports drink as he looked up at the television screen. The gym was relatively empty and quiet this morning, and the Primetime Emmy nominations announcement was being broadcast live from Los Angeles. _Paladin_ was in the running for several nominations, including Outstanding Drama Series, Henry for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama Series, and Mary for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series. The nominations would be for their work on season three, as the recently wrapped season four would be airing in the fall.

He felt a twinge of nervousness, wondering if Mary would be nominated. She was nominated in the first season, and passed over in the second. Henry had been nominated for both seasons, winning in the second. Matthew frowned at the thought of watching the two of them walk the red carpet together in past years, Mary's beautiful gowns and hairstyles sullied by Henry's possessive grip around her waist.

He sighed and went over to the bench, adjusting the weight plates and stretching his arms as he came around to sit down. He needed to forget about his past jealousy and be more calm about these things. Mary was with him again. He needed to trust in that and not be so bothered by other men ogling her, kissing and hugging her and what not. It didn't mean anything, not really.

He took several deep breaths, reaching behind him and grasping the bar so he could stretch his shoulders. He and Mary had been back together for two weeks now, and they had been two wonderful weeks. They'd spent most of the time working, so it wasn't as though they saw each other any more than before. They still ate together, shared cars back downtown together, but now ended each night talking to each other on the phone about whatever came to mind. There hadn't been any real proper dates over that time, beyond relaxing in each other's trailers and listening to music, or taking walks along the lake. He liked the easy pace at which they were going, being able to hold her hand and hug her when he wanted to, hearing the warmth of her voice, rather than the polite detachment from before. He enjoyed how she vented to him, confided in him, and seemed genuinely worried about what Mother's reaction would be to them getting back together. He tried to always stay in the moment, not think about the future, or even evaluate what was coming.

Peculiarly, they hadn't made love yet. Each night when he dropped her off at hers, there would be a pause, both of them wondering if she would invite him up, or if he would get out of the car with her, but they would just kiss and leave each other, talking on the phone shortly after before falling asleep. Other times, they would be in bed in his trailer, or hers, kissing and cuddling, plenty of time and opportunity to escalate it to something more, but neither did, despite it being rather obvious that they were both quite aroused. There just didn't seem to be any rush, or perhaps it was more that each setting they found themselves in didn't feel worthy enough for a moment that both of them wanted to be special.

He clapped his hands together, then eased onto his back, reaching up and gripping the bar. As the Emmy nominations were read out, he pushed the bar up and brought it down to his chest, letting out a long breath as he pressed the weight up smoothly and repeated the movement.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, July 2016**

 _"_ … _Matthew Rhys, The Americans; Liev Schreiber, Ray Donovan; Kevin Spacey, House of Cards; and Henry Talbot, Paladin…"_

"Oh joy, God's gift to women was nominated," Alex grumbled, lying on his front, head on his pillow, eyes closed, his arm across Anna's lap, his hand tucked under her t-shirt, rubbing the bare skin of her waist and stomach.

"Don't be petty," Anna said, caressing his arm. She was sitting up next to him, her eyes locked on the large television screen mounted on their bedroom wall, the volume turned up as she watched the Primetime Emmy nominations announcement. "Quiet now."

Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series was up next. The nominees would be read out in alphabetical order, so if Mary was nominated, she would be one of the first names called. By the same token, if she wasn't nominated, it would be clear almost right from the off.

Anna ran her free hand over Alex's bare back, trying to calm her nerves. Not being nominated last year had hurt, even though Mary tried not to show it. It was even worse as the show was nominated, meaning Mary went to the ceremony and had to smile and pretend to be happy when Henry won. The camera even panned to her when he thanked her during his speech, and she had to nod and gaze up at him adoringly. She pulled it off perfectly, but Anna knew how annoyed she was by the whole thing. The two of them had gotten rather drunk at the after-parties as a result.

Awards season was such a huge production now, something that she and Mary had to get used to when they first came over to North America. Between the Emmys, the Golden Globes, the Screen Actors Guild Awards and so on, they were flying back and forth to California from September to January. It was obviously far more fun when Mary was nominated.

"Come on," Anna muttered, watching the screen closely.

Alex, eyes still closed, reached up and took her hand, holding it while she waited.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July, 2016**

Mary paced back and forth in her living room, sitting down on the couch, then standing back up, going over to the window and coming back to the television, rubbing her hands back and forth. She gave everyone strict instructions not to call or text her before the announcement, not wanting to jinx it, or even discuss it. Of course, Mum had texted her good luck early this morning anyway and she was expecting a call from Aunt Rosamund later, but for now, she wanted to be left alone.

 _"The nominees for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series are…Mary Crawley, Paladin; Claire Danes, Homeland; Viola Davis, How to Get Away With Murder…"_

Mary closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. She finally opened her eyes and brought her joined hands to her smiling lips. Her stock photo on the screen was a bit outdated, taken a few years ago when she was nominated the first time. She laughed as she made a mental note to have Anna update it.

When she first got into acting, it wasn't to win awards someday. She had grown up admiring Granny's Oscars and various trophies, but she was taught early on that the vast majority of actresses did outstanding work and were never nominated for anything. She knew she was a good actress, and didn't need recognition to confirm it, but the industry was so fickle, great performances forgotten mere months later, a wave of other actresses constantly nipping at your heels vying for the same place in the spotlight. Being nominated in the first season had gotten Mary significant attention and numerous calls and meetings that she lost when she wasn't nominated in the second. If she was going to have the career that she wanted, she needed to be a perennial nominee and even win a few times. To be recognized once again was a massive relief.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, numerous texts and voicemails coming through. She ignored it for now. She wanted to just enjoy this moment for herself, the purity of a job well done, before she thought about what parties she would be going to, what outfits she would wear, what designer she would choose for the red carpet and so on.

 _"And finally, the nominations for Outstanding Drama Series are…The Americans, Better Call Saul, Game of Thrones, Homeland, House of Cards, Mr. Robot, and Paladin."_

She smiled and clapped her hands, happy for the cast, the crew, the studio and everyone involved with the show. Catherine and the girls would be ecstatic to come along and attend the parties and the ceremony. Many of the principal cast were relatively unknown actors, so for the show to be nominated allowed them to live the lives of stars for a few nights. The ceremony was in September in Los Angeles, and Mary was glad she wouldn't be going with just Henry for company.

A firm knock at her door drew her attention. She frowned and went over to the foyer, wondering who could be calling on her so early in the morning. Anna was at home, likely having already texted her when the nominations came out. Matthew was going to the gym this morning, he said, so who could it be?

She looked through the eyehole and blinked in surprise before opening the door.

"Lady Mary," the concierge said, nodding politely as he stood at attention.

"Clarence," she replied, eyeing the massive bouquet of white and pink peonies that he was carrying. "Are those for me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Clarence confirmed, bringing the large vase into the suite. "Where would you like me to put them?"

"Just over on the coffee table, thank you," she said, looking on in confusion as he did as he was told. The flowers were absolutely gorgeous, and must have been quite expensive. There were at least two dozen blooms, most of them still closed, from what Mary could tell. The network usually sent something when she was nominated, and Mum, Aunt Rosamund and Sybil had in the past, too, but this was far too quick to be from any of them.

"Mr. Crawley told me not to bring them up until he called and gave the order," Clarence said crisply, walking back out to the hallway. "Have a nice day, ma'am, and congratulations."

"Thank you," she said, smiling and closing the door behind him.

Her phone continued to buzz as she came back into the living room. Reaching into the arrangement, she took out the small white envelope with her name on it and removed the card. She smiled and brought her hand to her mouth as she read his messy handwriting.

 _"My darling Mary...Congratulations. You've always been Most Outstanding to me."_

"Oh Matthew," she said, rolling her eyes at his sappy line, yet still grinning as she sat down and finally picked up her phone.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, July 2016**

Mary dropped her eyes to his mouth, her lips parting as she turned her head and leaned towards him. Matthew closed the remaining distance and pressed his lips to hers, holding them there for a few seconds, then pulling back.

"How was that?" he asked.

She arched her eyebrow and smiled at him. "Not bad, if we were filming a scene of me kissing a dead fish. That was barely a peck, not to mention your lips didn't land flush against mine."

"Fucking hell," he groaned, sitting back on the couch and running his hand through his hair.

She smiled and rubbed his chest. "What were you thinking about just now?"

"Well, I was reminding myself to keep my eyes open until the last moment, keep my head turned so I wouldn't block the camera shot of your face, keep my lips closed the entire time, not hold the kiss for too long, and remembering my next line," he recalled.

She laughed and shook her head. "Glad that the actual kissing part was somewhere in all that."

He rolled his eyes.

"Darling, it's acting, yes, but it's still a kiss. It's not just the physical motion, there has to be some perceived feeling behind it, or else the audience won't buy it. It's the first kiss between these characters, a moment that the previous scenes have all been building up to. We've got to have some heat," she explained.

He frowned and sulked even more. "Heat, right…"

"Don't think of it as work," she suggested. "Think of it as a delightful bonus - you get to kiss me on set. We're actually quite lucky, because instead of breaking it down to mechanics, which is what is usually done, we can bring a more personal touch to it that most actors never can."

"But I'm not going to kiss you as though it were you and I kissing, obviously," he grumbled.

"Why not? That would give the scene some passion, surely," she noted. "And we'd enjoy it more."

"Because we're acting!" he said, looking at her as though she were missing something obvious. "On set you're Christina, and I'm Nico. Their first kiss isn't like one of our kisses, and anyway, we're pretending to kiss, not actually kissing."

"You've lost me," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders.

"It's a fake kiss. It isn't real," he tried again.

"Because there's no tongue?" she enquired.

"No, not just because of that!" he said.

"It's real for the characters, and more importantly, it has to be real for the audience. They have to believe that these two people want to kiss, Matthew. They have to see and feel the tension, the heat, the desire. It's just like any line of dialogue, or body language, mannerisms. We have to put all of our effort into it to make it seem believable. Nothing is worse than thinking the actors on screen have no actual chemistry together," she said.

"All right, all right," he relented. "Let's just try it again."

They ran the scene again, this time, he kissed her more firmly. She responded by sliding her tongue past his lips.

"Mary!" he complained, recoiling from her. "Don't do that!"

She laughed at his overreaction. "Oh come on, darling, I was just trying to get you to loosen up a bit."

"Yeah," he huffed, frowning and looking away.

She arched her eyebrow, watching him curiously. "What's wrong?" she asked, laughing at his pique. "That was better. You just need to not think about it so much, act more naturally."

"This type of acting doesn't come as naturally to me, I suppose," he grumbled.

She arched her eyebrow at him. "And what do you mean to imply by that? Are you saying that faking a kiss comes easily to me?"

"You're more experienced at it, obviously, or so it seems," he said curtly.

She blinked at his insinuation but stifled the angry rebuke that was on her lips to consider his mood and his words.

"Matthew," she called, and he reluctantly turned and looked at her. "Are you struggling with this so much because you're wondering if this is the way I approach my scenes with Henry?"

He blinked and looked away again. "No, not at all," he said unconvincingly.

"Matthew," she scolded him. "Complete and honest communication, remember? Come on, spill."

He sighed and looked down at nothing in particular. "I…I just…" he said quietly. "I know you're just acting during your...scenes, with him. It's just that when it comes to you and Henry, I..."

"You just wonder if there is anything more between he and I, if I was ever involved with him after I broke up with you," she offered. "You saw the photos of us in New York, and you think I might have had an arrangement with him as well?"

He sighed and frowned, his voice quiet when he answered. "I see the way he touches you when you're out in public. He did it again at the wrap party, holding on to you like he…"

"Like he owns me," she finished.

"Argh," he spat, finally nodding his head after stewing for a moment.

"Matthew," she said firmly, and he eventually turned and looked at her.

"I've never, ever, done anything even remotely romantic with Henry. Those photos from New York, it was planned tabloid fodder, all of it. The network likes to generate publicity by creating these 'showmances,' as they call them, and I was playing my part. I did leave that party with him, and we did go back to my hotel, but I sent him away after the paparazzi took the photos of us and enough time passed for it to seem that he spent time in my room. Nothing happened. The next day, our representatives gave the standard line of 'not commenting on their clients' love lives' and it pushed the needle a bit. There's absolutely nothing real to it," she said.

"I know that, or, at least, that's what I guessed," he replied. "Though it's entirely obvious that if you did want to start something with him, he would be more than agreeable."

She chuckled despite his grumpy face. "I won't deny that he's tried to get me into bed, numerous times. He's an ass, and a jerk, and a bit of a fuckboy, Sybil would say. That's why I want nothing to do with him. If you're asking if I find him attractive, I'm not going to deny that I do. He's a very good-looking man. But I knew, even back in England, that I could never be anything more to him than a conquest to brag about, that he sees me more as a commodity than a person, so it's quite easy to turn him down. He's not the type to force a woman anyway. He likes the chase more than anything."

"I don't care if you find him attractive," he said. "I shouldn't care. I know you would never do anything with him, regardless of whether we're together or not, and anyway, whatever you've done before isn't my business. I just think about it because all of this…filming kisses and love scenes and what not, it just…takes some getting used to, is all. When the majority of your career is spent singing in musicals, having small, forgettable roles, and doing commercials, you don't get a lot of practice kissing on camera."

She smiled and nodded in understanding. "Look, all the love scenes in _Paladin are_ either taken straight from the books or embellished to draw attention to an episode. As much as I detest Henry, my character is very attracted to his character. So, when I'm kissing him, or having fake sex with him, it's not me, and it's not him. It's Jade and Frederick, and I have to think of what she would do, not what I would do, because I assure you that I would not be doing anything close to what she does. And, for the record, it is not at all arousing, at least not for me. But, the viewers think it's hot, and that's what matters. Selling the illusion, without actually crossing any lines."

He nodded his head slowly. "I just am having trouble getting my head around the idea of kissing you and not feeling anything, or feeling something but still staying in character."

"It's still a kiss, physically, but what you imagine in your mind is what determines how you feel about it. When I kiss Henry, I know what I need to do to make it appear as though I'm really getting into it, even though, in reality, I can't wait for it to be over. We're professionals. Being able to kiss, or have sex in a believable way on camera is the same as having a realistic accent, or the proper tone or inflection, or any other skill," she said easily.

He looked at her, still unconvinced. "So, you're saying that you could kiss me, professionally, and feel nothing?"

"It's a part of my job," she replied. "Of course when I kiss you for real, I feel a great deal of things. But on set, it's just part of the scene, like anything else. The difference is I know how to make it seem like it's so much more. You'll learn that in time."

He frowned, then leaned over and kissed her more firmly, stroking her cheek before drawing back.

"What about that? Did you feel anything there?" he asked.

"That was much better than your previous attempts," she agreed, entirely calm. "If you're expecting me to swoon from it, I'm sorry, darling, but I'm in work mode right now. I'm not mentally and emotionally switched on to be aroused."

"You can just change like that?" he asked.

She laughed and nodded. "Do you ever get aroused when you kiss Anna, or Sybil, or Edith?"

"God, no!" he exclaimed. "That's disgusting, Mary! They're like my younger sisters!"

"Exactly," she said, laughing at him. "On set you're just another actor, not my boyfriend. I'm not completely detached from the moment, because then it comes across as laboured and contrived, like your first attempt earlier. But I'm not in the mood for romance, either. So, regardless of your fit body, your gorgeous lips, and the fact that you are an outstanding kisser, I'm sorry, darling, but I'm focused on getting through the take and moving on."

He smiled, shaking his head at her.

"Fair enough," he said. "Let's try it this way, really put ourselves in the scene. I'm Nico. You're Christina. We've been dancing around each other for what's supposed to be weeks. It's raining. You get caught out. I rescue you and you end up in my truck, soaked to the bone. What's next?"

"Well, my hair is wet, my skin is damp, my clothes are clinging to me. I look rather irresistible to you," she said easily.

"And me? How do I look?" he asked. "How does Christina see Nico in this moment?"

"You're wet, as well. Your hair is messy, untamed, and there's droplets of water on your face, on your bare arms. Your shirt is almost see-through, all those muscles that I've been dreaming about are on full display," she noted.

"But you've seen me before," he reminded her. "This moment is different because we're alone. You're vulnerable, trapped with me in my truck with nowhere to go. And no one knows you're here. No one knows that we're alone together. The tension is palpable. I could do anything I want to you."

She frowned slightly. "Yes, that's true."

"Still though, a part of you trusts me, knows somehow that I'm not like that, not one to force myself on a woman. And you're not entirely sure of yourself in this situation, either. This isn't what you're used to. You're not the type of woman who finds herself alone with a man who isn't your husband," he said.

She nodded in agreement. "You're so much different from him. You're more direct, you always say what you mean, you don't play games, don't have a massive ego. We're in close quarters, exposed to each other. I can't hide behind a crowd in the bar. No one's coming to take me away. It's just me and you and all the time in the world for anything to happen."

He smiled. "What else are you feeling in this moment, alone with me, the rain pelting the windows around us?"

She swallowed. "I can smell you, you're so close. Your scent is earthy, strong, male. I find it intoxicating."

"It's another reminder of how different I am from what you're used to," he said. "And you like it."

She nodded slowly and licked her lips. "The situation feels overwhelming to me. I shouldn't be here. It's forbidden, and wicked, as if at any moment something powerful and wrong could happen. I want to flee, but a part of me wants to stay, wants to see just how far this will play out."

"It's not in you to tell me what you want, not with words. That's not who you are. But you do tell me in other ways, don't you?" he asked confidently.

"Yes," she said.

"The way your lick your lips, the way your eyes can't hold my gaze and keep glancing down at my mouth, steal peeks at the rest of my body. I lean in closer, still careful. I don't want to assume anything, don't want to ruin whatever small hope I might have, but I can't resist," he said, coming closer to her.

"You're suddenly on me, filling my vision," she said, letting out a harsh breath as she looked from his eyes to his mouth. "This is what I've been dreaming about, my dark fantasy, and I'm about to lose control, let down my guard. I don't want to stop whatever is about to come. I want to give in, be someone else, if only for a night."

He kissed her, his lips seizing hers, opening and closing as he pushed against her. She responded, tilting her head to let him lead, his scent filling her. His hands came up and ran up the sides of her face, coming to rest in her hair, massaging her scalp and keeping her in place.

"Better?" he asked between kisses.

"Mmm hmm, much," she gasped, kissing him back.

"More?" he asked.

"Yes," she said harshly.

He kissed her again, then again with more urgency, breathing in her perfume, feeling her tongue against his, hearing the hum from her throat. He didn't think about how long to hold the kiss, the requirements for the scene. His fingers touched her silken hair, his mouth tasted her soft lips. The rehearsal melted away, leaving just her and him, and a growing, desperate need to be close to her.

All of a sudden he stopped, pulling back a bit, waiting a fraction of a second for her to open her eyes and look at him questioningly.

"Mary," he breathed, breaking all pretense between them. He didn't care about practicing the scene and the nuances of the actor's mind, detaching oneself from the moment. Right now, they were together again and he had to know it was her, his Mary, that he was loving, had to let her know what this really meant to him. "Your pace. Your rules."

She swallowed and blinked, her raging desire calming for just a moment as she saw the adoration in his eyes.

"Matthew," she answered, closing her eyes and kissing him again, pulling him firmly down to the couch on top of her.

He followed, smiling against her lips. Her hands slipped beneath his shirt and around to his back, running up from his waist to his shoulder blades and back again, feeling his muscles, his warm skin. He quickly removed his shirt and cast it aside, then returned to her, kissing her urgently, hungrily. She turned her head in invitation, and he ravished her neck and throat with his tongue.

He couldn't unbutton her top fast enough, yanking it down her arms with her help. His hand unsnapped her bra with shocking speed and he was upon her, his lips and tongue hot and insistent across her naked breasts, stoking her arousal before he sat up and undid her shorts, pulling them off and tossing them away.

Her hands grabbed blindly for anything to hold on to as he lifted her legs onto his shoulders and kissed her naked thighs. She clawed at the cushions behind and next to her just as he pulled her thong aside and pressed his mouth to her centre.

"Oh yes!" she shouted, her back arching, her eyes shutting tight. His mouth found every spot she wanted him to, and many more besides. His hands moved up her body and took hold of her breasts, fondling and pinching, adding to her delerium as she felt liquid heat build inside of her from the onslaught of his lips and tongue. She bucked under his ministrations, rolling her hips and pushing against him, anything to feel him closer, deeper.

"Yes, yes! Oh God, that's it! Make me...yes!" she cried, her hands grabbing the back of his head and pushing him down as she spent, moans that she wasn't entirely familiar with flying from her lips. She was still shaking when he kissed his way up her body, her arms falling limply above her head, her eyes still half closed as his lips found hers. She tasted herself on his tongue and groaned into his greedy mouth, then groaned louder still as he pushed her thighs apart.

She reached between them and almost broke the button of his shorts trying to get to him. He took over and shoved his remaining clothes off, moving back over her, raising her legs and grinding against her, his eyes finding hers.

"I want it, Matthew," she breathed, nodding to him. "I want you."

He leaned down, his forehead touching hers just as he thrust inside of her.

She kept her eyes open, wanting to see him, wanting him to see her, an entire dialogue passing between them without words. Need. Hunger. Lust. Forgiveness. Love. They moved together in a frantic rhythm, her hips lifting to receive his every thrust.

"Mary," he choked out, his teeth bared. He went faster still, wanting to send her flying again, wanting to go with her.

"Fuck me, oh, fuck me!" she begged, no longer able to match his strokes, keeping her legs spread and taking all of him. She cried out as she released again, wrapping her arms and legs around him, hanging on as he gave it to her hard and rough as bliss beckoned. He was filled with the scent of her skin and hair, the sound of her moans and their bodies moving together, the heated touch of her skin against his. His peak approached rapidly, every grunt signalling he was getting close. He tried to pull back and withdraw from her. Even though she was on birth control, he never finished like this during the months they were carrying on under their arrangement. It was too intimate an act for the casual way they were with each other then, and he wasn't sure if everything was permitted even now.

"I'm close," he warned, expecting her to let go of him.

Instead, she kept her legs locked around him, holding him tight against her.

"I want it," she breathed into his ear. "I want you."

He yelled as he sank into her to the hilt one last time and unleashed.

* * *

"That was entirely unprofessional, you know," she teased, kissing his chest. "It was hardly a successful exercise in balancing pretend passion with proper detachment. In fact, it was an utter failure. We're not supposed to get so carried away."

"Apologies," he said thickly, massaging her back. "I suppose all that's left to do is try it all over again until I learn the proper technique."

After their first go, he'd carried her to the bathroom, the two of them hugging and kissing softly as the shower rained down on them. Sufficiently cleaned and dried, they fell into bed, snuggling close, their hands roaming over each other, relearning familiar territory, laughing as they shared and remembered all of their sensitive spots.

"We should do it again," she agreed, smiling at him wickedly. "Take it from the top."

"Whenever you're ready, Christina," he said.

"In a minute, Matthew," she teased, giving him a wicked glance before kissing a path down his front. "There's a technique of my own I want to try first."

He sighed in bliss, his hand moving along her back and over her bottom as she raised up on her hands and knees, leaned over and took him into her mouth.


	9. Chapter 9

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 2016**

"That was entirely unprofessional, you know," she teased, kissing his chest. "It was hardly a successful exercise in balancing pretend passion with proper detachment. In fact, it was an utter failure. We're not supposed to get so carried away."

"Apologies," he said thickly, massaging her back. "I suppose all that's left to do is try it all over again, until I learn the proper technique."

After their first go, he'd carried her to the bathroom, the two of them hugging and kissing softly as the shower rained down on them. Sufficiently cleaned and dried, they fell into bed, snuggling close, their hands roaming over each other, relearning familiar territory, laughing as they shared and remembered all of their sensitive spots.

"We should do it again," she agreed, smiling at him. "Take it from the top."

"Whenever you're ready, Christina," he said.

"In a minute, Matthew," she teased, giving him a wicked glance before kissing a path down his front. "There's a technique of my own I want to try first."

He sighed in bliss, his hand moving along her back and over her bottom as she raised up on her hands and knees, leaned over and took him into her mouth.

 **Chapter 9:**

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, July 2016**

Mary looked up from her phone, smiling as she watched Matthew eat. He hadn't bothered to throw on a shirt this morning, or put any real effort into combing his hair. After waking up and lying in bed together for a while, he got up, put on some underwear and wandered out into the kitchen to see about breakfast. She joined him after scrubbing her face, taming her hair into a ponytail and throwing on one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers. Her legs were a bit sore, which only made her smile, a not unpleasant reminder of last night.

She made the scrambled eggs while he took care of the ham, tomatoes, and toast, and somehow managed to come up with freshly squeezed orange juice, though she had to spoon out the odd seed from her glass before drinking it. Once breakfast was ready, they brought their plates to his dining table and sat down to a lovely meal. He fetched his tablet so he could read over his copy of the script, while she rested her legs across his lap and browsed her text messages and emails.

He fed himself another forkful of scrambled eggs with one hand while he massaged her legs with the other, his eyes moving over the scene they would be shooting tomorrow. It was a rare day off for them, and a Sunday no less, which meant they could be as lazy as they wanted to this morning. Truly neither of them were in any hurry to get moving anytime soon.

They'd made love three times last night, including the first frantic session on the couch that arose out of supposedly rehearsing their characters' first kiss. After a sensual shower, they moved to the bed for their second go, then cuddled and fell asleep, naked and sated. She woke sometime after midnight, his arm holding her just below her breasts, his firm body spooned behind her.

There had been no discussion of her staying over. She hadn't once in the weeks since they'd started dating again. Of course, this was the first time they'd had sex since getting back together as well, but it had been years since they'd actually woken up together. Rather than extricate herself from his grasp, though, or invent some excuse to go back to hers, she turned in his hold and looked at his sleeping form for a moment. She admired his tousled hair, his fit chest and arms, the ridges of his abs. As a teen, he'd been a bit on the doughy side, not particularly fat, or even out of shape, but hardly the specimen he was now. She ran her fingers along his cheek, across his shoulder and down the smooth length of his arm, for no other reason than because she could, smiling at the simplicity of it.

No, she'd had no intentions of leaving at all.

He grimaced for a second from her touch interrupting his sleep, licking and smacking his lips in protest as she eased him onto his back. She covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud as he settled back to sleep, his one arm still reaching out to her, expecting her to snuggle against him. She smiled to herself as she pulled the duvet off of him, ran her hand across his stomach and reached down to grasp his length. He groaned at her touch, his eyes still closed. She stroked him lightly, waking him up with her hand, then her mouth, and when he was sufficiently ready, she straddled him, brought his hands to her hips and woke him up fully.

A flash of arousal tingled inside of her as she watched him now casually eating his breakfast. She remembered how he let her be on top at first, massaging her hips as she rode him, then with a primal growl he turned them over, pinning her to the mattress and taking control. She didn't know where both of them got their energy from. Some nights when she got back from set she was almost asleep before her head hit the pillow, but last night neither of them seemed to tire.

"These eggs are good," he mumbled, his eyes still on the tablet screen as he ate. "Did you change your recipe?

"I used milk, and took it off the heat sooner," she confirmed, smiling at how easy and carefree this all seemed, just sitting at the table in their underwear, having breakfast.

Her pleased hum drew his attention. He swallowed his mouthful of eggs and looked at her in amusement.

"Something funny?" he asked lightly.

"No, just enjoying breakfast," she stated.

"Ah," he said, smiling as he looked back at his script and rubbed her legs.

After several minutes of companionable silence, she drew his attention. "Matthew?"

"Hmm?" he replied, taking a sip of his orange juice.

"How many women did you sleep with after we broke up?" she asked, arching her eyebrow.

"What?" he sputtered, almost spitting out his drink.

"You heard me," she said, undeterred. "How many?"

"You think that's your business, do you?" he asked, looking at her pointedly.

"I'm making it my business. Whether you choose to answer or not, is yours," she retorted. "How many? How many other women have enjoyed your prowess, been left breathless and quivering when you're done with them?"

"What do you think?" he challenged, putting his fork down.

"Well, you're much better now, not that you were bad before, and it was a span of two years. Since I never heard of you dating anyone from Edith or Sybil, I'd say at least two or three," she guessed.

He laughed and shook his head. "Guess again."

"Five?" she asked, her voice rising in surprise.

He laughed again, then met her eyes defiantly. "None."

She blinked. "None?"

"I dated a bit," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "No one ever appealed to me enough to take it to that level. I was too busy trying to scrape together enough jobs to get by in the early going, did a lot of workshops and such, didn't really put much effort into meeting anyone or anything else, besides work. After I moved here, I tried to socialize a bit more, just because I only knew Alex and no one else. I met some people but no one particularly memorable, and we reconnected soon after, as you will recall."

"None," she repeated, shaking her head. "But then…how…erm…what about…how did you become so…different?"

He smiled, tickling her calf. "When we began seeing each other, I resolved to be…different…than I was before, in many ways…and it seems to have worked."

"I'll say," she mumbled, taking a quick drink of water.

He smiled and went back to eating his breakfast.

"Still…none…that seems difficult to believe," she muttered.

"You're going to ask about Lavinia again, aren't you?" he said, smiling as he read his script. "I told you. She's engaged. She was kind to me during the auditions, helped me out immensely, actually, but there was nothing more. I don't even think of her in that way."

"But I saw her," she blurted out, cringing at her admission.

"You saw her…" he questioned, turning and looking at her strangely.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I saw her…coming out of your trailer. It was weeks ago. She told me you were in the shower."

"In the shower…" he said, frowning as he tried to remember. Suddenly he blinked and laughed. "Ah. Yes, I see. She came to my trailer to drop off the call sheet and I was already in the shower. I told her to leave it on the table, and she did. She didn't open the door and steal a peek, if that's what you're asking, and we certainly didn't do anything that required me having to shower."

She felt her face become warm and expected her cheeks had turned crimson. "Ah," she mumbled.

"Any other women you wish to confirm that I haven't had sex with?" he enquired, his voice teasing and confident. "One of the catering staff, maybe, or an extra or two? Perhaps you suspect that's how I got the part, or maybe you think Natalie wanted to have a go?"

"Shut up. I'm not paranoid, if that's what you're implying. And it's not as if Lavinia wouldn't be up for it if you offered, engaged or not," she said petulantly. "I bet she sits on the bike right behind you in spin class so she can get a good look at that tight butt of yours."

"For your information, she sits on the bike next to mine. Anyway, we haven't been to a spin class together in weeks. I don't particularly care for them when the weather's warm enough for me to ride for real," he said easily. "Why were you coming to my trailer that day, anyway?"

She shook her head and scoffed. "I had just come back from a run with Natalie and I was just dropping by to say hello."

He smiled. "To say hello…in your sports bra and shorts, were you?"

"Yes," she said, nodding her head and pursing her lips.

"Wanting to put me in a right state before we were due back on set, is that it?" he asked lightly.

"Maybe," she admitted. "I suppose I liked knowing that I could still affect you, even if we weren't together."

"Believe me, you did. You do, profoundly," he assured her, rubbing her legs and going back to his breakfast. "I probably would have needed another shower straight away if I'd seen you dressed like that, all rosy-cheeked and sweaty."

She grinned and shook her head.

"Would you have joined me, if I asked you to? In the shower, I mean," he said cheekily.

Her eyes widened as she looked at him in bewilderment. She eventually looked away and reached for her orange juice.

"We weren't together, if you recall," she said carefully. "However, I most certainly would have been tempted, if I caught you naked and wet when you asked."

The both of them fell silent once more. He returned to his script and she took a sip of orange juice.

"Aren't you going to ask me how many men I've had over the same time?" she asked after he didn't say anything more.

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Not interested."

She stared at him in disbelief for several seconds, then huffed and rolled her eyes. "You're maddening, you know that?"

"Why?" he asked, looking over at her. "Were you hoping that I'd had numerous women?"

"I was hoping for more than zero, yes," she grumbled. "You were supposed to tell me your number, then I would tell you mine, and that would be the end of it. We wouldn't have to revisit the subject again."

"So what's the problem? I told you my number," he replied.

"Yes, but it's a rather saintly number," she complained, rolling her eyes again.

"Hey," he said firmly, drawing her attention. "Our past is our past. No judgments, no blame, no revisiting. Since then, you've lived your life, and I've lived mine, and now it's time we lived them together. How we got here isn't important, not anymore."

She crossed her arms in front of her and frowned at him.

"What? What is it?" he asked, smiling at her pique.

"You were supposed to have been out indulging in all manner of debauchery so I could finally claim the moral high ground. But instead, you remained stupidly loyal the entire time we were apart. You're maddening!" she whinged.

He laughed, leaned over and kissed her angry lips. "All right, I'll say my number is twelve, if it makes you feel better."

"Now you're just being annoying," she said, glaring at him.

"What makes you think I was loyal to you?" he asked. "I said I didn't have sex with anyone. I didn't say it was because of you."

She frowned and looked at him pointedly. "If you didn't have sex with anyone that entire time, did you not give yourself…relief…every so often?"

His eyes widened, then he smirked and nodded his head. "Yes."

"Of course you did, and who did you imagine when you were going about it?" she asked, arching her eyebrow knowingly.

He grinned and looked down at his plate.

She went back to eating her breakfast.

"What about you?" he asked quietly. "Who was on your mind when you were...indulging?"

"None of your business," she replied.

He smiled and looked back at his script.

 **La Société French Restaurant, Yorkville, Toronto, Canada, July 2016**

Anna followed Alex through the restaurant and out to the patio, her hand in his. The perky hostess showed them to their table and waited for them to be seated before handing them their menus. They ordered water, tea and orange juice. As he read his menu, she glanced around at the fashion boutiques on the street below, the sun bright overhead.

"Getting your usual, love?" he asked idly.

"Mmm hmm," she replied, looking around casually, her eyes shielded by her dark sunglasses. "You?"

"I think I want steak and eggs," he said slowly, looking over the menu, then setting it down on the table.

She smiled as he reached across and took her hand again, massaging her fingers. He didn't pull away when their drinks were served, unafraid of showing his affection for her as the waitress took their order.

"I want you to come to San Diego with us in a couple weeks," she declared, stirring her tea. "It's just over the weekend – leaving Friday morning, and we're back Sunday."

"And what am I going to do there? Because I'm certainly not going to see you at all," he joked, smiling at her and sipping his orange juice.

"It's Comic-Con," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Surely there is something there that will interest you."

"Hmm, well I could try and find a Harley Quinn outfit for you," he suggested cheekily. "Or maybe Wonder Woman."

She rolled her eyes and smiled wryly.

"Anyway, I only need to be with Mary for the show panel on Saturday afternoon," she said.

"Which means you'll also be with her all Saturday morning to prepare," he added. "And there's sure to be an after-party."

"Yes, but Friday night I'll be free, and most of Saturday night once she's arrived. We can go to the party together," she countered.

He smiled, drawing out her light annoyance until finally nodding. "If you want me there, love, I'll be there."

"Good," she said, squeezing his hand. "Because I've already booked your ticket, and our room."

He laughed and leaned back, taking another drink of orange juice.

She glanced around the spacious patio, every table full with the lively brunch crowd. They had drawn a few stares and double-takes when they came in, which she was used to by now. It wasn't that they were recognized, not the way Mary was. It was more how exotic they looked, or at least, how exotic other people thought they looked. She short, he tall. She with her pale white skin and blonde hair, he with a shade darker complexion and black hair. Though Alex was only a quarter Chinese, they still resembled an interracial couple, and this made them stand out for some reason. In the early going, it was more of an issue, at least in those initial moments when she would introduce him to her friends and family and someone would awkwardly try and figure out what Alex's heritage was. He was never bothered by it, and so neither was she, but they still drew the interest of complete strangers whenever they went out.

She played with her wedding and engagement rings as they waited for the food to come. Part of her wondered what their children would look like. Surely they would have darker hair, slightly darker skin, maybe with her eyes. Now that would be a rather interesting mix. Random thoughts like that were popping in her head more often, as of late. She shuddered when she thought of Mum and Alex's parents coming to stay with them to see the baby, smiled imagining walking through her neighbourhood on a warm sunny day with her newborn sleeping peacefully in the stroller, and practically laughed with delight at the idea of shopping for baby clothes and decorating a nursery. Who knew when she would get pregnant, but the idea of becoming a mother seemed more real to her now, and seemed to fire her imagination.

She had heard plenty about all the nightmares too, from stories about difficult pregnancies, painful labour and deliveries and all the sleepless nights and desperate moments in those first months and beyond, but she chose not to dwell on all that. When she was younger, she thought of having children as more of a chore, a duty. Finish high school, maybe go to college or just go and get a job, marry, have children, and live a few blocks away from the house she grew up in. Life as she knew it would end once she had kids, and she would devote every second and every penny to raising her family.

Her life had turned out far differently, and that seemed to make her look forward to having children much more. She knew how lucky she was, how much love she had in her life, and she wanted to share that with a child, her and Alex's child.

"Love," he called, smiling at her across the table. "You okay?"

"Mmm," she replied, nodding as their food arrived. "I'm good."

He smiled as he picked up his knife and fork and sliced into his steak.

"Babes?" she called, leaning over and lowering her voice.

"Yeah?" he replied, taking a bite of his steak.

"About that costume, make sure you get spandex, not latex," she whispered, smiling at him wickedly. "Remember how rubber tends to leave marks on my skin."

He gulped loudly and nodded his head.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, July 2016**

Matthew blinked at the sound of his trailer door opening. He smiled as Mary came in and joined him on the small couch, giving him a quick kiss and reaching over to nick a few grapes from the bowl on his lap.

"Where were you?" he asked lightly. "I thought we were meeting at one?"

"Oh, I was just in with Thea and the scriptwriters talking about a new scene," she explained. "Sorry that I'm late. We were in a really good rhythm and lost track of time."

"A new scene?" he repeated.

"Yes, to be added sort of at the end of the first Act," she said. "We all thought that there should be something to show the power dynamics between the couple before the big blow up."

He nodded in understanding. "So you're getting a proper fight are you?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," she said, smiling to herself as she grabbed another grape.

"What's that mean?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

"Well, even though David is very selfish, Christina isn't used to being second best in his eyes. The affair hurts her very deeply, but she doesn't show it right away. When you have someone who goes from being docile and quiet, to always arguing, full of tension, stress and insecurity, there's eventually going to come a breaking point."

"So you get to slap Rick across the face then?" he asked, smiling in amusement.

"A punch, actually," she said.

"Ah, that's great. Should make for some a very riveting scene. Good for you," he said proudly.

"Yes, thank you, I'm looking forward to it. But they thought it should escalate beyond that, and I agreed, so we put together a bout of angry passion just to drive the emotions home more clearly," she said lightly, stealing another grape.

He blinked in shock. "Erm…really? Passion?"

"I think it will be quite powerful," she continued enthusiastically. "The tearing of the clothes, the heated kisses, the rough sex. It'll be one of those scenes that makes one question who is the aggressor as it goes along. That's what I think makes it such an interesting dynamic. They aren't clearly good and bad, are they? There's things to like about each of them, and things to despise as well. It will change her from being the meek victim to being a more multidimensional character. And when she then goes on to meet Nico and have her own affair, it will follow more realistically."

"Right, yeah…" he managed. "Well, that should be some scene to watch."

"You'll have to wait until the film comes out to see it. It's going to be a closed set, with the nudity and all," she said lightly.

"What?" he choked out.

"Well you wouldn't want the entire crew to see me naked, would you?" she asked, smiling at him. "It's common to close the set for nude scenes."

"Of course, yeah," he said, frowning as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I just didn't know that there would be nudity in the movie."

"Originally there wasn't, no, but the film is pushing a strong PG-13 already anyway, so the studio wasn't bothered about it. They think an R-rating might grab more attention, even. Plus, the more I thought about it, the more it makes sense for her. The way we're going to shoot it is they fight and wrestle a bit, then I sort of throw him down and take my top and bra off before I pounce on him and we tear the rest of our clothes off. She's not ashamed of her body and it's a bit empowering as well, because she's as active as he is, sort of giving him one last romp to show him what he'll be missing."

"I see," he muttered.

"I think this could be a real breakthrough for me, you know? Everyone knows me from the show, of course, and we get quite racy with some of the scenes, but ultimately it's still television. This will be much more explicit, raw. It'll show producers and directors that I can convey that kind of passion, that I'm not afraid to really put myself out there, play a part that's so complex, from reserved and proper to visceral and nasty. It will stick in their heads. They'll see a different side of me."

"That's for certain," he said ruefully.

"They suggested I use a body double, but I said no," she said dismissively. "I like the idea of people knowing that it's me on the screen, in the flesh. It shows just how far I'm willing to go for my craft, doesn't it?"

"Erm…yeah, I…I would say it will…erm…show a different side of you, as you said, and really add some…punch…to the character and so on…yeah," he said through gritted teeth.

She sat back up and turned to look at him, watching him for a few seconds before she burst out laughing and shook her head.

"What?" he asked, perplexed at her behaviour.

"Oh, my darling," she said, still laughing. She pushed the bowl of grapes away and straddled his lap, her arms coming across his shoulders. "You are ever so cute when you're trying to appear unaffected. Clearly you are a boiling mess inside."

His mouth fell open and he frowned at her teasing. "I don't see what you find so funny."

"There is no new scene," she revealed. "There's no angry sex, and there certainly will be no nudity, not by me, anyway."

"There isn't? You were just…God, don't play with me like that, Mary!" he whinged, his hands moving around to cup her bottom.

"Oh, my poor, sweet, conflicted Matthew," she laughed, kissing him lightly. "You have nothing to fear. The only man who gets to see all of me is you."

"I must admit I am relieved, but it's not fair of me to feel jealous, or possessive. It's your body and your career and I have no right to tell you what to do with either," he stated.

"That's very gallant and progressive of you," she agreed. "However, it's perfectly all right for you to have an opinion, and I want you to tell me so. I like that you don't want to share me with anyone else. If I'm honest, I'm rather furious about that shower scene that you'll be doing, actually."

"They're just showing my chest and stomach, Mary," he said. "You needn't be upset."

"I like your chest and your stomach, thank you," she retorted, arching her eyebrow at him. "And the thought that women everywhere will be drooling at the sight of them infuriates me to no end."

"They can look all they want. You're the only one who gets to touch," he said.

"My, you're rather confident, aren't you?" she said, arching her eyebrow at him.

"I am now," he said, nodding his head and looking at her intently.

"Well then, perhaps I should take full advantage of my touching privileges," she replied, kissing him more deeply this time.

"Please do," he said, smiling against her lips as his hand slid under her shirt and up her back.

"Just a moment," she said between kisses. "Before you have your way with me, there was an actual, legitimate reason why I was late to come meet you."

"You can tell me later. I've already forgiven you," he said quickly, his fingers reaching for the snap of her bra.

"Matthew, wait!" she said, laughing and yelping as he undid her bra and licked her neck. "You know I'm going to San Diego next week."

"Mmm hmm," he said, kissing the sensitive spot just below her ear. "And you should give me something to tide me over while you're gone. I'm going to miss you terribly."

"Insatiable," she hissed, enjoying his touch before she gently pushed him back. "Maybe you won't have to miss me at all."

He blinked as he realized he would need some of his other brain functions for the moment. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I confirmed that you aren't on the call sheet for next weekend, which means you're free to come along to California," she said, smiling at him.

"Go with you? To Comic-Con?" he said. "Oh, darling, that does sound like fun, but I don't want to get in your way."

"You are never in my way," she said firmly. "Anna is bringing Alex along, so I thought it only fitting that you come with me. I also had the network agree to pay for it, as part of my entourage, so your flight, meals, everything is covered."

He grinned in awe. "Wow."

She laughed and leaned forward, kissing his cheek, then licking his ear. "You'll have to share a hotel suite with me, though. The network wouldn't pay for you to have your own room. I hope you don't mind."

He swallowed, his hands sliding over her shorts and cupping her arse. "I think I can manage that."

"Good," she declared. "I was able to get you a pass so you can check out some of the Marvel panels. I hope you and Alex can control yourselves. I really don't want you to have to explain to customs why a grown man has a suitcase full of action figures and LEGO."

He laughed and kissed her. "I'll behave, I promise."

"Well, I never said that I wanted you to behave, at least not the entire trip," she teased, sliding her tongue into his mouth.

He groaned in pleasure and reached under her shirt to remove her bra.

"Seducing me in your trailer, Matthew? How scandalous," she whispered in his ear, grinding her hips against his.

"You locked the door, didn't you?" he asked kissing her heatedly.

"I did, but who cares?" she replied, reaching between them to fumble with his zipper. "If anyone comes in, they might learn a thing or two."

He laughed thickly, then sat back and sighed as she slipped down to kneel between his legs and pulled his jeans down.

 **Jack Layton Ferry Terminal, Harbourfront, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 2016**

"Love, please? For me?" Alex begged, leaning over and kissing Anna's cheek.

"I knew I never should have agreed to do it the first time," she replied, shaking her head. "Now it's all you can think about. You're addicted."

"I'm not addicted!" he protested. "It's just that you're so good at it. I love watching you do it."

She rolled her eyes. "All right, fine. Just don't make a scene. We're in public."

She reached over and took his phone, holding it up in front of her and flicking her fingers over the screen. He watched closely, holding his breath, then grinning and hugging her.

"There. You are the proud owner of a new Gyarados. Now don't bother me for a little while, hmm?" she said, handing his phone back to him.

He sat back on the bench with a dumb grin on his face, moving his finger over the screen as he kept playing _Pokémon Go_. Anna resumed her previous position, sitting with her feet up on the bench, back propped against his side, her phone in front of her as she continued with her own game.

"Oh! A Poliwhirl! I don't have that one yet!" he exclaimed.

"Already caught it," she muttered. "Don't be so eager. You sound like a newbie."

"Oh good Lord, fancy running into the two of you here."

They both looked up and smiled as Mary and Matthew came over, walking hand-in-hand, both of them holding their own phones. Alex and Anna got up from the bench and greeted them, exchanging cheek kisses, while Alex and Matthew bumped fists.

"Why do I get the feeling that this wasn't as coincidental as it seems?" Mary asked, looking at Matthew suspiciously.

"Anna caught a Gyarados for me!" Alex exclaimed, waving his phone in front of him.

"Can I see?" Matthew asked eagerly, coming over to his friend's side.

Anna smiled at Mary. Mary just rolled her eyes.

"Darling, Anna and I are going to take a walk, see if we can't find a handsome sailor or two looking for some fun," Mary called.

"All right," Matthew replied, looking at Alex's phone. "Be discrete about it. The paps would love a shot of you making out with some stranger on the boardwalk."

"Be safe, love," Alex chimed in, turning to Matthew and beginning to explain something or other about the mobile video game.

Mary rolled her eyes and turned away, walking with Anna, the two of them weaving through a crowd of players to get to the boardwalk along the water. With everyone around them either engrossed with playing the game on their phones, or tourists wandering around the harbourfront, they were able to stroll unnoticed. Mary smiled and looked out at the blue water, the sun shimmering on the surface. There were sailboats and ferries on the lake, the patios of the various restaurants were full, and people were out walking their dogs or riding bicycles, enjoying the lovely weather.

"Have you heard from Henry?" Anna asked as they walked.

"He texted me last night," Mary said, rolling her eyes. "His usual nonsense. 'Hello, darling. Can't wait to see you this weekend'. Just rubbish."

"Have you told him about Matthew?" Anna asked.

"No, it's none of his business, not that it would stop him," Mary replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Anyway, I only need to put up with him for the panel, some photos, the arrival at the closing party and that's it. I told Matthew that we wouldn't be staying long, and we can slip out and go have a nice dinner somewhere. He's been looking into restaurants, preferably overlooking the water."

Anna smiled, pleased at Mary's calm and happy mood.

They both blinked at the sound of Mary's phone ringing.

"It's Aunt Rosamund," Mary said, glancing at the call display. "Her usual call to remind me of my duties and obligations, no doubt."

Anna laughed and nodded as Mary answered the call.

"Mary," Rosamund said warmly. "I saw the itinerary for San Diego. It's a very good idea to fly in the day before. That will make everything far less rushed."

"Yes, I thought so, too. It was Anna's idea, and quite a brilliant one," Mary replied, smiling at Anna.

"Now, I understand that Matthew is accompanying you?" Rosamund questioned.

"Yes, he is," Mary confirmed, surprised by the question. "He's not required on set so I thought why not?"

"That's very nice, and you've told him about how he needs to stay out of sight, I trust?" Rosamund asked.

Mary frowned, her eyes narrowing behind her Prada sunglasses. "What are you talking about? He's not going to be up on stage with us, obviously."

"Mary, we've built up this very useful image of you and Henry as a rumoured couple. This is a perfect opportunity to keep it fresh in everyone's minds, leading up to your promotional tour for the new season. The last thing we need is for anyone to find out you have a boyfriend, a decidedly normal and unremarkable one at that," Rosamund said drily.

"I'll thank you not to speak so disrespectfully about Matthew," Mary retorted.

Anna glanced over at her in concern.

"He's a dear family friend, yes," Rosamund allowed. "But he's not Henry."

"Thank God for that," Mary said wryly.

"Yes, yes, even still, it's very important that you stay on message," Rosamund noted. "You and Henry can carry on as usual, just enough flirting and chemistry to set the blogs and gossip sites aflame. I don't mind Matthew being there with you, but keep him backstage, or in the audience, or somewhere out of the way. You needn't be seen together at the actual venue. In fact, it's probably best if you take your meals with a group if you're going to go out, but ideally you'd just order in from room service."

"Shall I book him on a separate flight as well so we aren't seen at the airport together?" Mary asked sarcastically.

"It wouldn't hurt," Rosamund said. "Mary, be sensible, please. It's early days of…whatever this is with Matthew. In Toronto you're relatively anonymous and we can always explain away anything that might come up by saying that you're old family friends and working on the same movie, so of course you're going to be around each other. Considering this is your career that we're talking about, I should think that not holding hands with him or showing any affection in public would hardly be great sacrifices for you."

Mary scoffed as she looked out across the lake to the airplane taking off from the island airport just a few kilometres offshore.

"Now have a good trip," Rosamund continued. "Anna will take care of posting the photos of your getting ready for the event, some snaps with fans, and what not. There will be plenty of coverage of you and Henry, but we'll add a casual shot from backstage before you go out. With any luck, this will keep the buzz going through to the Emmys in September. I'll talk to you when you get in to California."

"Bye," Mary said curtly, hanging up her phone and shaking her head.

"Trouble?" Anna asked warily.

"You could say that," Mary grumbled, pursing her lips as she stared off into the distance. "Aunt Rosamund was merely reminding me that I've made my bed, and apparently there's no room for Matthew in it."

Anna frowned as they continued walking in silence.

 **Comic-Con International, Hall H, San Diego Convention Center, San Diego, California, USA, July 2016**

 _"Now Hall H, I know you didn't come here to listen to me go on and on about how great the show is. You came to hear from the people that make the magic on this show happen, am I right?"_ the moderator shouted.

The entire hall exploded in cheers and applause. Matthew and Alex sat in the second row, off to the side, clapping along with everyone else, though perhaps not nearly as frantically. It had been quite an experience walking around the convention floor earlier. Matthew enjoyed browsing the booths, seeing all the collectibles and memorabilia, but he also noticed dozens of people dressed up as Mary's character, Jade, or Henry's character, Frederick, from _Paladin_. The show wasn't so popular that there were action figures for sale or anything like that, but it still had a strong following amongst the throngs of conference goers. Though Matthew knew the show was doing well, and had strong ratings in key demographics, it was still rather jarring to see up close just how rabid the show's fans could be, what lengths they went to show their devotion.

"If only these people knew who you were," Alex joked, glancing around at the overcapacity crowd in amusement.

"I'm nobody," Matthew answered, his eyes on the stage, where a long table with several microphones was set up. Name plates were arranged for each of the guests, including directors and producers of the show, and of course, Mary and Henry, who would naturally be sitting next to each other.

"I'll give you credit," Alex said quietly. "This is exactly the kind of bizarre scenario I envisioned when you told me you were back together, and you are handling it all remarkably well."

Matthew felt his stomach churn.

Mary had broken the news to him two nights ago. He already knew that she would be making an appearance with Henry, and that she would likely be so busy as to not have much time for him during the actual event itself. However, to be essentially told that he had to stay away from her, to preserve appearances, her 'showmance' with Henry, annoyed him more than he realized, or revealed. He had played it off, made some joke about not wanting to steal Henry's thunder, but now, having not seen his girlfriend all day, he felt his mood darkening at the prospect of her making her entrance at her co-star's side.

 _"We're going to bring out the Paladin group in a second, but first, does anyone want to, I don't know, see some exclusive footage?"_ the moderator asked, waving his hands around to incite the crowd. The roar from the audience made Matthew and Alex cover their ears.

 _"All right, just for you Hall H! Just for you! Here's a teaser trailer of Paladin, Season 4!"_ the moderator shouted as the lights in the hall went down and the crowd went wild.

Matthew leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, steepling his hands and bringing the tips of his joined fingers to his lips. The fast guitar chords of Justin Timberlake's _What Goes Around…Comes Around_ rang out before the huge projection screen that dominated the entire wall behind the stage lit up with a close up of Mary's eyes. The camera panned out as Henry's voice, in the sharp aristocratic accent of Emperor Frederick, boomed over the loudspeakers.

 _"Jade, you'll never be free of me. In truth, you don't ever want to be…"_

On screen, Jade's eyes closed as Frederick kissed her cheek, then her neck. She leaned her head back, her lips parting in pleasure as he licked her skin. A series of scenes played out, the grunts and groans mixing with the dialogue and the guitar riffs of the song in a swift staccato.

 _"Anyone who is not entirely loyal to me and my cause shall die, painfully,"_ Jade sneered, her counsellors sitting around the modern boardroom table cowering as she rose from her chair.

 _"I pledge my life to these men, just as they pledge theirs to me. We all leave together, or none shall go,"_ Frederick said fiercely.

 _"Well, you always did know how to make an entrance,"_ Jade said, smirking playfully.

Frederick grinned wickedly as he took Jade from behind, the cushion she was biting into hiding her bare breasts as she moaned in ecstasy.

 _"She is just the Empress. I am the Emperor, and my word is law,"_ Frederick said firmly.

Jade smiled during what appeared to be a grand ball, kissing Frederick as they danced.

 _"You are incapable of love, of caring about anyone but yourself!"_ Frederick shouted, drawing his sword and pointing it at Jade's neck.

 _"To arms!"_ Jade yelled, raising her sword as hundreds of soldiers roared in reply.

 _"I am Jade to my friends. You shall call me Empress,"_ Jade said pointedly, arching her eyebrow.

A topless Frederick lifted Jade up off her feet and slammed her against the wall, kissing her hard as she wrapped her legs around him.

 _"Do you ever regret that we came here?"_ Frederick asked her as they looked out to a bustling metropolis from what seemed to be the top floor of a skyscraper.

 _"Never,"_ Jade answered, smirking at him as he took hold of her hand and kissed it.

Jade's hands glowed as she pressed them to the pale face of an unconscious woman.

Jade and Frederick, dressed in full armour, jumped at each other, swords drawn, as rain fell all around them.

 _"What goes around, goes around, goes around…comes all the way back around…"_

The chorus of the song played several times as a fast reel of scenes flashed through to the trailer's end. Jade and Frederick kissing. Jade removing her helmet and glaring at the camera. Frederick adjusting his cufflinks as he walked beneath a gleaming sun in a three-piece suit, sunglasses on. Jade walking out of an elevator wearing a designer dress. Frederick pouring a bag full of sparkling diamonds into a laughing Jade's hands. Jade, her face dirty and bloodied, yelling as she swung her sword with both hands and cleaved a man's head from his body. Frederick reaching for her, his face contorted in fury as she walked away from him.

The screen went black, Jade's voice filling the auditorium.

 _"Are you mad? You look mad..."_

The audience burst into enthusiastic applause as the _Paladin – Season 4 – November 2016_ title appeared. The hall lights soon came up and the moderator nodded his head, allowing the crowd to keep yelling and screaming, refusing to introduce Mary and the others until the frenzy grew even louder.

Matthew sat back in his seat, resting his elbows on the armrests, lips pursed in a thin line, willing them all to hurry up and get on with things.

* * *

Mary took a sip from her bottle of water, then handed it to Anna. A shiver of delight shot up her spine as she heard and felt the cacophony from the fans on the other side of the curtain. This was easily the loudest crowd she'd ever appeared before, and the reaction to the teaser trailer was fantastic. She had smiled during the viewing, recalling all the scenes as they played. The trailer had shown plenty of the new season, but held back more than enough to keep fans guessing. She could just imagine the conjecture and debate on the Internet, fans breaking down the trailer frame-by-frame on YouTube videos, and trading theories on what was to come. The clever editing had put out the exact message that they wanted – that Season 4 was going to be the hottest, and best season yet.

"Hear that, Mary?" Henry whispered, coming up behind her and taking hold of her arms. "They love it. They love seeing us together."

Though she was mildly annoyed of how he put his hands on her, she was used to it. Besides, he was right. She nodded her head in agreement, her pulse quickening as she watched the moderator introduce each member of the panel and the backstage staff sent them out to raucous applause.

There had been a rather delirious mob when she and Henry made their arrival to the convention centre. Walking hand-in-hand with him across the show floor, she had waved and smiled, stopped for a few selfies and signed some autographs, cameras all over the place constantly taking her photo. The snaps showing her getting ready in her hotel suite with Anna, her stylist, and hair and makeup people were already up to over 100,000 likes on social media. Seeing the trailer open with a shot of her eyes thrilled her. She felt like a true empress, queen of all, and she was about to go out to her adoring public.

"We need to a get a photo of the two of you before you go out," Anna called, looking at Mary apologetically.

"Sure! Right!" Mary nodded, smiling as she leaned back against Henry and his arms came around her waist and hugged her.

Anna aimed her phone at the couple, adjusting the zoom.

"Say 'Emmy'" Henry ordered, looking at the camera lens and pressing his lips to Mary's cheek.

"Emmy!" Mary said, grinning as Anna took the photo.

Mary stepped out of Henry's hold as she went over to see how the photo had turned out.

"That's cute!" she exclaimed, nodding for Anna to go ahead and post it online.

"When you get out there, Matthew will be sitting to your left with Alex, second row," Anna informed her.

"What?" Mary asked, unable to hear her over the rising din of the audience.

 _"And finally, the hottest couple on television! Hall H, give it up for the Emmy nominated Mary Crawley and Henry Talbot!"_ the moderator shouted.

"Go! Go!" an assistant shouted, waving her hand for them to step out.

Henry took Mary's hand and pulled her away from Anna. He led her out on stage, the two of them smiling and waving to the audience, who all rose to their feet to applaud them.

* * *

Matthew clapped, albeit slowly and politely, as Mary, Henry and the rest of the _Paladin_ panel waved to the crowd for the last time and exited the stage. He sat back down as the rest of the audience began the long wait to leave the hall, in no hurry to get going. There was still a loud buzz in the room, fans eagerly discussing the teaser trailer, the answers given by the panel to the generic questions posed to them, even comments on how Mary was dressed. He knew she would be busy for a while with interviews for various media outlets, as well as special VIP fan events and such. He wasn't even sure he would see her at all before the official closing party later in the evening.

"Come on," Alex said, nudging him. "We can head out through backstage. Anna already arranged it."

Matthew sighed and got up from his seat, following Alex as they made their way towards the stage, passing giggling fans as they went.

"She is so gorgeous in person, oh my God!"

"Did you notice his tan? So hot!"

"Can you imagine being paid to make out with your boyfriend as your real job? So lucky!"

Matthew grit his teeth as they slipped past the remaining fans near the stage and made their way past security, flashing their show passes for good measure. Anna came over to meet them as they were brought behind the curtain.

"This way," she called, squeezing Alex's hand and smiling at Matthew as they came past. "Down the hall there and that door leads you to the outside."

Matthew nodded to her in thanks, then walked on with Alex towards the exit. He took one last glance back before they reached the door, seeing a brief glimpse of Mary and Henry seated together, chatting away with a reporter, all smiles and laughs. He wanted to wait a bit and see if she would look up and see him, but in a moment a security guard directed him to the door and he lost sight of her.

 **City View Suite, The Westin San Diego Gaslamp Quarter, San Diego, California, USA, July 2016**

Mary sat still as the makeup artist finished touching up her face and the hair stylist tested the pins in her hair to make sure her French Twist was holding. As this was Comic-Con, as opposed to an awards ceremony, she was going for a more casual look this evening, wearing a blue sleeveless blouse with a black leather skirt. With her hair and makeup finished, she thanked the staff and dismissed them, along with her stylist, after posing for a few photos and accepting their well wishes.

She wandered around the suite, sighing as she waited for Anna's text to tell her when the limo had arrived so she could head downstairs. The car was picking up Henry first at his hotel before coming over to collect her. One more red carpet and she would be rid of him until September, she reminded herself yet again.

Her eyes cast a forlorn glance at the empty bedroom. When she came back from finishing up at the convention, Matthew was already gone. He and Alex were grabbing a quick bite and walking down to check out the baseball stadium a few kilometres away. The plan was always that they would meet her and Anna at the party, but she wished he was here with her now. Earlier in the week, they had talked about having a late dinner together, just the two of them, after they left the party. On the flight over, she had cancelled those plans, telling him there were numerous executives who would be at the party that she needed to talk to and expected she'd have to stay past midnight to get to everyone. If he was disappointed, or angry, he didn't show it, the change of plan barely fazing him, or so it seemed.

They hadn't seen each since breakfast in their room this morning, and she was already surrounded by her staff by then. During the day, as she was busy with her stylist and team, he had texted her from the convention, eagerly telling her about some of the cool things he'd seen, sending her photos of some of his impulse purchases, and even a selfie he'd taken with a rather buxom woman dressed as Jade. She'd laughed at his antics and it had helped calm her down. Comic-Con was such a nervous time for her. The fans here were quite fickle, intensely loyal to the books and wary of even the slightest artistic license taken by the show. When she came here to promote the second season, she'd spent close to ten minutes having to defend the show's decision to omit a rather unnecessary scene from the books where Jade leaped off the roof of a building and into a helicopter, killed four men, then leapt back off just in time before the helicopter went sinking down to the ground below. With the show reaching the end of the source material from the books, she was cautious about what she might face during the panel. Surely everyone would want to know what direction they were going to go with all-new, original material, and she wasn't sure how to handle that type of scrutiny. Matthew had relaxed her, sent her messages of encouragement all day, and her confidence soared when the audience welcomed her and Henry with thunderous applause.

As she stood backstage with Henry watching the teaser trailer and gauging the audience reactions, she thought for a moment about what Matthew might think. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen her and Henry in sex scenes before from previous seasons, but that was different. They weren't together at the time.

Normally, she didn't care what the majority of people thought of her performances. While she never discussed any of her work with Dad, in particular, she wasn't ashamed that her sisters or anyone else had seen her cursing, drinking, smoking, crying or having sex on screen. Granny had advised her not to do nudity, and it was a rule she still stuck to today. Anything outside of that, though, was fair game, a part of her job, and she didn't feel the need to justify any of it to anyone.

Still, though, she wondered if Matthew was uncomfortable seeing her in such compromising positions, regardless of if it was just pretend. But then she and Henry were called to the stage and it was so loud, she could barely hear herself think. The questions came quickly and the lights were so bright that she couldn't find him in the audience, not that she made much of an effort to do so before she was whisked away at the end to do interviews backstage with Henry. Matthew had texted her saying how he loved the trailer, thought she was very good in it and said she absolutely killed on the panel. His unwavering support made her desperate to see him, to share her relief and satisfaction with him. But the moment she was back in their hotel suite, her stylist and team were back with her and it was on to getting ready for the party.

 _"Henry's downstairs."_

She glanced at Anna's text and sighed. Stowing her phone in her clutch, she went over and stepped into her heels before heading out.

 **Entertainment Weekly Comic-Con Bash, FLOAT at Hard Rock Hotel, San Diego, California, USA, July 2016**

Matthew sipped his Jack and Coke and looked out across the San Diego skyline. The entire rooftop bar had been done up for the Comic-Con closing party, complete with fancy stone firepits, coloured lights everywhere, a DJ, and beautiful, scantily-clad servers circulating among the celebrity guests. Dodging past the red carpet line easily, he had gotten a drink and made his way out to a corner overlooking the convention center and the marina beyond, occasionally checking the time on his phone. It was the _Paladin_ wrap party all over again, except this time he expected that Mary would be even busier mingling with network executives and other actors before finally getting to him.

He was happy for her and all the attention she had received today, proud even. Her face was lit up as she answered all the predictable questions during the panel, and she spoke with a real warmth and enthusiasm when talking about her character and the coming season. Considering there was a time when the both of them couldn't even get an audition for some projects, it was truly astounding, and wonderful that Mary was now so in demand, identified so readily with a popular fictional character. For these fans, she would be Empress Jade forever, and there was something impressive about that, about this small legacy she had carved out through her hard work and talent.

The closing party was more of the same showing off that Matthew had grown accustomed to in the business, except with far more gloss and A-list attendees than events he'd been to before. An exclusive, invitation-only event, it was a time for the actors to catch up and socialize, the executives to congratulate themselves on another successful convention, and for everyone to let loose and have at it. Mary would arrive with Henry, be photographed on the red carpet, and make her rounds, smiling, laughing and upping her profile amidst a flurry of cheek kisses and funny stories. He was glad for her, and knew she would manage it all brilliantly, but he would only get in her way if he tagged along, so he intended to give her a wide berth.

He shook his head in resignation. Oh well. At least they would have some time together at the end of the night, and they were flying out tomorrow, so things would go back to normal once they were in Toronto. He reminded himself that this weekend was just a necessary bother and that what was far more important to Mary, to his Mary, was the work and all the effort put in the rest of the time when there were no screaming fans, no enthralled media, no relentless paparazzi. He was lucky to be able to share these different parts of her career and life once again, and he tried to stifle any feelings of jealousy or annoyance. That was what got them into trouble last time, and he forbid it from ruining things now.

"Hey there, gorgeous! Now, what is a fine looking man like yourself doing all alone here in the corner? Come on up to my room and let me show you a good time."

Matthew's eyes bulged in shock. He turned his head and glanced up at a statuesque blonde in a pink sleeveless top with matching skirt, coloured patterns down the front. She was sipping a Martini and giving him a predatory smile.

He laughed and shook his head, standing up straight and turning around fully to face her.

"Yeah, right! Gwen! Hi!" he exclaimed, giving her a kiss and a warm hug. "I didn't even think to find out if you would be here."

"Apparently, you didn't, you arse," Gwen replied, laughing and hugging him back. "What the hell are you doing here? I didn't know you had anything going on at the convention."

"I don't," he explained, stepping back as they both turned and leaned on the railing. "I wasn't due on set all weekend, so I thought I'd fly down and take a look."

"Thanks for telling me. Shit, Matthew. Anyway, you should come over to our table. I'll introduce you to everyone," she said. "Who are you here with?"

"No one, really," he replied. "I'm supposed to catch up with Mary at some point, but I imagine she'll be busy for a while."

"Ah, right," she said, nodding her head. "Natalie mentioned something about her flying down here, yeah. So, you and Mary?"

"We're just taking it slowly, more or less," he said. "Getting used to each other again."

"Well, good," she stated. "I knew all that talk about her and Henry was just a bunch of utter rubbish, but it's a relief to know the truth."

"You know how it is. They have to give the appearance of being together to create buzz, or something," he muttered.

"Yeah, I know how it is, all right. Henry doesn't strike me as the type of man who could pretend to be dating Mary and keep things entirely professional, though," she said, laughing wryly.

"She can handle him," he said, frowning as he looked up at the dark sky overhead.

Gwen smiled and shook her head. "Well, come on, then. Until Lady Mary is available, I'll take good care of you."

"Oh, you don't have to have pity on me," he protested. "I'm all right, really. Go on and have some fun and let me know when you'll be in Toronto next so we can have a proper catch-up."

"Matthew Reginald Crawley, you know damn well that if word gets back to either of our mothers that I ran into you here and barely spent any time with you, I'll never hear the end of it," she warned. "Besides, I haven't seen you in ages. Now, come on. They're really a good lot, my cast. Beware of Sophie, though. She's young and she's got a thing for blonds."

He smiled and relented, taking her hand as she led him through the crowd towards a large table in the other corner where her _Game of Thrones_ cast mates were holding court, laughing, chatting and drinking the night away.

* * *

Alex leaned down and kissed Anna lightly, holding her close as they swayed back and forth to the music.

"Want to go?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"Are you sure you're allowed?" he replied.

"Yes," she said, looking at him pointedly. "I'm free until we leave for the airport tomorrow. She's Matthew's responsibility now, and you're mine."

He laughed and kissed her again. "I'll go downstairs and get us a cab while you make your final rounds."

"Aren't we walking back to the hotel?" she asked.

"Not in those heels, you're not," he said, smirking at her. "I'll see you down in the lobby."

She laughed and nodded as he squeezed her hand and left, moving through the crowd and heading back inside.

She paused to take everything in – the pulse of the music, the warm summer air, the breeze coming in off the water, the dancing lights against the moonlit sky above. This trip had been a whirlwind and it had all come off brilliantly, every step smooth and organized, just as she planned. To see the crowd be so enraptured by the _Paladin_ teaser trailer and so appreciative of Mary was incredible. She was so glad she had convinced Alex to come down with her. The entire outing had been a success and she couldn't wait to get him back to their hotel for a proper celebration.

Leaving the dance floor, she made her way around the rooftop venue, exchanging hugs, kisses and warm goodbyes with her friends and colleagues. Personal assistants shared a bit of a kinship with one another, especially those like her who had been around for years. Whether they worked exclusively with one artist or were part of an agency, they all empathized with each other, particularly at a big event like Comic-Con. They could all relate to being woken up at 2 a.m. and sent to the pharmacy for eye drops, toothpaste, condoms, and whatever else, told to get a last-minute table at a restaurant that was fully booked for weeks, or listen attentively as their employer explained in great detail just precisely why so-and-so was a 'conniving little bitch' seconds after taking a smiling selfie with the said person. Though Mary was Anna best friend, besides her husband, when they were working, she could still be maddening sometimes and very demanding all of the time. The shared experience of the job brought the assistants and staff all closer, and they enjoyed these parties, both as confirmation that they'd survived another big do intact, and because they were off the clock for a few hours.

"Oh, Anna! I wanted you to meet someone. C'mon," one of her connections at Warner Bros. said, taking her arm and pulling her towards the bar.

When they arrived, she found a group of younger twentysomethings gathered around, joking, laughing and having drinks. One of them, a tall man with short brown hair, green eyes and a hawkish nose, turned and smiled at her.

"Anna Smith, Alex Green. Alex, this is the Anna I was telling you about. Alex is the PA for Anthony Foyle," her friend said cheerfully, making the introductions.

"Ah," Anna said, recognizing the actor's name. "So you're joining our show for next season?" she asked.

"Yes, we are," he replied, reaching out and taking Anna's hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of her palm before releasing it. Anna looked over at her friend and laughed.

"Tony just did his last panel for _The_ _Walking Dead_ this week. It's kind of sad to be leaving that show, but I know he's looking forward to being on _Paladin_ and working with Mary again," he continued.

"Yeah, she mentioned they sort of came up together through school and all, that their families are still friends," she added.

"Alex will be going up to Toronto in the fall to get acclimated so I thought I'd connect the two of you in advance," her friend explained.

"I'm actually heading up in the next couple of weeks to look around for an apartment for Tony before he takes his visit in the fall," he said. "He hates staying in hotels, and since he's signed for a full season, he wants a real place to live in for the six months we'll be there."

"Toronto real estate can be pricey, though not quite as bad as London, so there's that," Anna stated.

"Well, maybe you'll do me the honour of showing me around a bit when I'm there?" he suggested. "I'd rather go around with another PA than a real estate agent."

"Sure, yeah. Let me know when you come up and I'll see if I can find the time," she said politely.

They took out their phones and traded contact information.

"What are you drinking, Anna?" he asked, nodding his head towards the bar. "On me."

"Oh, that's all right, thanks. I'm actually leaving," she said.

"So soon? It's barely past midnight," he said jovially. "Just stay for one drink."

"Sorry, I'm actually cutting back anyway, and my husband is waiting for me downstairs," she said.

"Oh, okay. Got it. And what is the lucky man's name?" he asked.

"It's Alex, actually," she said, laughing at the coincidence.

"Imagine that," he said, smiling at her. "Well, it was great meeting you, Anna. I'll see you in a few weeks."

"Okay, bye," she said, smiling and nodding before she turned away from him, hugged her friend again, and left the bar.

Green watched her go, sipping his drink, his eyes moving from her blonde hair that trailed down her back, across her toned arse framed by the tight skirt, and along her shapely legs. He grinned, then turned back to his friends and ordered another round.

* * *

 _"I need a one dance, got a Hennessy in my hand. One more time before I go, higher power's taking a hold on me…"_

Mary raised her arms above her head and swayed to the beat of the music. This was the part of these parties that she loved – later in the evening, most of the executives and the older crowd already gone, and she could really unwind and relax. With their flight leaving at 11 tomorrow morning, and the time difference between the West Coast and Toronto, she knew she was going to spend most of Sunday on a plane, then in bed to try and ward off any mild jet lag. So, she was more than happy to dance until dawn. Even though she knew that wasn't realistic, she felt energized enough to try it.

"Want to head out?" Henry asked, coming up behind her and putting his hands on her hips.

"Not even a little bit, no," she replied, shifting out of his hold and turning around to face him. "I'm surprised you're still here. I thought you'd have found some pretty little thing for the night by now."

"Haven't even bothered to look at anyone else," he replied confidently, smiling as he watched her dance. "Wouldn't want to betray you and be caught out with another woman. I'm a faithful chap, don't you know?"

She laughed dismissively and shook her head. "No, can't say that I do."

"I saw Anna leave a while ago," he noted. "I expect you'll need someone to ensure your safe return to your hotel."

"I'm sure that I can manage, thanks," she replied. "I'll be fine, so you can be on your way."

"Now, now, darling," he said easily, stepping closer to her. "Why don't we just enjoy ourselves the way we did in New York?"

"See where the night takes us?" she said lightly, arching her eyebrow at him.

"Exactly," he said, leering at her.

"Not interested. You're not taking me back to my hotel, and you're not even leaving with me, either. We played our parts, as required, and that's it. Have a safe flight back to Australia, Henry," she said airily.

"Maybe I'll just stick around for a while longer, in case you change your mind," he said smugly.

"Do what you like, but I wouldn't count on it," she answered, turning away from him as she kept on dancing.

He shook his head and watched her for a moment, then turned away and headed over to the bar.

* * *

"Cranberry and vodka, here you go," the bartender said, handing the drink to Matthew. He accepted the glass and nodded. Stepping away from the bar, he turned to make his way back to the table. Gwen was right. Her lot was a happy bunch, and he'd had a lot of fun just sitting around with them, listening to their stories from the set, their plans for what they were doing over their hiatus and a few funny tales from Comic-Con. Gwen had also been right about Sophie, the talented young actress who had taken a liking to him from the moment he was introduced. She'd spent most of the evening hanging around him and flirting. He was enjoying the attention, but keeping her at bay was a bit of a challenge. Hence his getting up to get her this drink just to escape for a few moments.

"Hey, you. I know you," Henry said, coming up to him and looking him over. "You're…Matthew!"

Matthew smiled politely and nodded. "Henry."

"God, I didn't even recognize you for a second there. You must be working out, or something," Henry said. "Down from Toronto, are you?"

"Yeah," he said cautiously. "Just came down to check out the convention."

"Nice, nice," Henry said, waving his hand to the bartender for another drink. "Listen, kudos on getting that part in _Shattered_. That's a nice little role for you, get your feet wet a bit on a decent sized movie. Good on you."

"Thanks," Matthew said tightly, barely able to keep his smile.

"I have to thank you for keeping the Missus busy too," Henry joked, grinning at Matthew. "Mary can be a load to deal with sometimes, so I'm sure you've spared me plenty. She doesn't need to whinge to me about whatever drama she's got going on since she has you around."

Matthew had to swallow to keep himself composed. He gave a non-committal grunt and considered sipping Sophie's drink to keep himself from saying anything more, or alternatively, throwing it in Henry's face.

"Real good decision you made there, too, deciding to take the role even though she dumped you before and all," Henry continued easily. "It can't be too much fun having to pretend to have feelings for the woman who rejected you years ago, but in this business, there's no room for sentiment. If something helps you get ahead, you do it. Good on you for seeing the big picture there, Matthew."

Matthew's free hand clenched into a fist at his side. "Well, we all have to do what we must," he replied.

"Anyway, good to see you," Henry said indifferently. "I'll be back in Toronto late next month for promotional interviews. I might surprise Mary on set, too, so I'll be seeing you around, I'm sure."

Matthew just nodded as Henry turned away from him without another word. Leaving the bar, he walked briskly back towards his table. Compared to keeping his emotions at bay around Henry, having to fight off Sophie's advances would be most welcome.

* * *

Mary made her way towards the washroom, hoping there wouldn't be much of a line so late in the evening. She idly thought about what her next drink might be, and as a result, cast her eyes towards the bar. What she saw made her stop short.

Henry was talking to Matthew.

She couldn't make out what they were saying, she was too far away. However, it appeared that Henry was being his usual charming self, given his smug smile and the way he was nodding his head, as though he thought the mere motion would somehow convince Matthew to agree with whatever it was he was saying. By contrast, Matthew's lips were pursed in a thin line, an expression that she knew meant he was holding back, keeping composed so he wouldn't do anything rash. Considering that Matthew hardly ever did anything rash unless goaded into it, whatever Henry was saying must have been getting on his nerves, or maybe it was his mere presence alone.

Before she could decide whether or not to head over and intervene between the two of them, she saw Matthew smile tightly and nod his head before Henry left him to collect his drinks. Matthew turned and walk away. The fact that Matthew hadn't come to blows with Henry was a minor miracle, given how insufferable Henry could be, particularly where she was concerned. She didn't know if Matthew had told Henry about the two of them being back together, or not. Henry had remembered she had dated Matthew back in England. He would know Matthew's face, even if he didn't recall his name.

It wasn't that Mary was afraid of telling Henry about her and Matthew. She reasoned that first, he didn't even have a right to know, and second, she never shared much of her personal life with him, let alone such a wonderful development as her new relationship. Get through this weekend and she wouldn't have to put up with him again until the Emmys. It was an easy charade that she was well drilled in, but seeing Henry and Matthew standing opposite each other for the first time gave her a strange sense of foreboding, as if she hadn't anticipated that they would run into each other, and what they might talk about. She blinked and took off for the washroom, determined to go and find Matthew as soon as she got back.

 **Junior Suite,** **The Westin San Diego Gaslamp Quarter, San Diego, California, USA, July 2016**

"Aren't you glad you came?" Anna said, smiling as she kissed Alex's chest, her hand reaching down between his legs, stroking him slowly.

He laughed, then groaned from her touch. "Nice choice of words."

"What?" she asked, leaning up and kissing him, sliding her tongue against his. "I know the trip has been rather hard, but I've made it worth it for you to come, no?"

"Anna," he growled, swallowing to restrain himself as her words and fingers stirred his arousal.

"I'm off the pill, officially," she purred, kissing his neck. "We can start trying tonight even, if you want."

He hummed in approval. "Is that why you weren't drinking tonight?"

"Mmm hmm," she confirmed. "Plus, I wanted to prove that I don't need to be drunk to be in the mood to make love to my husband."

He laughed and kissed her, his hand moving up and down her bare back. "Well, then I am at your service, Mrs. Lewis."

"Good," she said, kissing him lightly, then pressing her naked body against his, kissing his cheek before licking his ear. "Because I am very, very randy. I've been thinking all night of finally getting you back here and feeling you deep inside me."

"God," he snarled, reaching up and running his hand through her hair, drawing her into a fierce kiss.

"Mmm, fuck me, babes," she drawled.

"Love," he breathed, opening his eyes and finding hers. "Remember, no pressure. It might take us a while, even a long while, and that's all right, perfectly natural. I love you, and whatever happens, happens, okay?"

She grinned and kissed him. "I know," she said confidently. "And I love you too."

He gasped as she kissed her way down his body and took him into her mouth, her tongue and fingers pushing him close to his release, then drawing him back enough to do it all over again. He stretched his arms out to either side of him, grasping the bedsheets, the sound of her moaning around him making him delirious with lust.

She let go of him and lifted up onto her hands and knees, crawling up the bed until she was next to him, her eyes dark and clouded, a smirk on her swollen lips.

"You know, apparently one of the best positions for conceiving is if you take me from behind," she said lightly, arching her back and lifting her bottom enticingly.

"Is that so?" he asked, his voice heavy. He reached out and ran his fingers from her shoulder, along her back and over her arse.

"According to research, in fact," she teased, looking at him playfully. "You wouldn't want to disagree with science, would you?"

"Oh no, certainly not," he said firmly, rising to his knees and moving behind her. "Wouldn't want to do that."

She smiled and bit her bottom lip as she felt him take hold of her hips and pull her back towards him.

 **Entertainment Weekly Comic-Con Bash, FLOAT at Hard Rock Hotel, San Diego, California, USA, July 2016**

Mary couldn't find Matthew. He wasn't at the bar. He wasn't on the dance floor. He wasn't sitting on any of the couches set up all over the rooftop. She was about to text him to see where he'd gone off to when she finally spotted him. She frowned in surprise as she looked across at a table in the far corner. He was sitting with the cast of _Game of Thrones_ and seemingly having a grand old time. She recognized numerous cast members from having run into them at past Comic-Cons and awards shows. Almost all British actors who had made the leap to North America knew each other from past projects, or at least by reputation. She saw Gwen sitting next to him, which explained why he was there in the first place. Gwen was a family friend of Matthew's, and had mentored him a bit when he was at Drama Centre London. She and Gwen got along, but hadn't spoken much since the break-up. Mary hadn't even thought to suggest that he get in touch with Gwen while he was here. She also noticed that Sophie seemed to be draped all over him, which was rather startling to see. While Sophie was several years younger than them, the age difference wasn't what seemed strange to Mary. Rather, she was just thrown off at the sight of another woman, and an attractive and famous one at that, staring at Matthew as though she wanted to devour him.

Her instinct was to head over and break up this little party, but she stopped herself and mulled the situation over. To be fair, she hadn't seen him all night, hadn't even sought him out, left him to manage on his own while she gave fake smiles to network executives and laughed at jokes that weren't funny just to stroke their egos. He had found an old friend amongst the guests and was now amusing himself with a group that Mary knew were a fun bunch. So what if he had a redhead draped over him? Was anything he was doing now any worse than all the things she did with Henry and others that he had to put up with?

Her expression softened as she watched him laugh and smile while he had an animated conversation with Gwen. He had come here at Mary's request, to support her, even if it meant pretending not to know her in public and waiting patiently for her to fit him into her busy schedule, with nary a complaint uttered about anything. Present situation aside, how much fun had he really had this trip? Even if he could honestly say he'd enjoyed some of it, his happy memories would be of time spent walking around with Alex, browsing the various booths at the convention, or partying with Gwen and the _Game of Thrones_ cast. The happy moments that could be attributed to her was virtually none, she realized sadly. A nice meal and passionate sex when they got in on Friday, nothing more. Just like when he flew to Downton at Sybil's request and pretended to still be her boyfriend for Granny's sake, he was getting so little out of the bargain, and yet did it all the same.

She wondered when was she going to do something selfless and nice for him? As she watched him grinning at something Gwen said, she couldn't even think of any ideas.

"You'll never guess who I ran into just now."

She looked away from Matthew and glanced at Henry in confusion, wondering how he had just seemed to appear before her. Why hadn't he left by now?

"Who?" she asked.

"Matthew Crawley," he replied. "God, he hasn't changed a bit over the years. Still looks as milquetoast and boring as ever."

She frowned at his insult. He had a nerve.

"Anyway, last chance, darling," Henry said softly as he came closer and leaned in. "Just come back to my hotel. We can have a drink, chat a bit. No pressure, no expectations, I promise."

She blinked in shock, then composed herself and smiled mysteriously.

"Thank you for the offer, but no, I can't," she said. "I'm heading back soon, myself."

"Perfect! I'll wait for you," he said cheerfully. "I'll just see you back to your hotel, then. No need for you to come to mine, although I must say I think my hotel's breakfast is most likely better than yours."

She smirked, her eyes bright.

"No, I'm afraid you'll have to find someone else to take back to yours," she replied.

"Mary, you wound me," he said, clutching his chest in false pain. "Can you honestly say you'd rather go back to your cold, empty hotel room and just drift off to sleep? I'm offering you a much better option. You'll enjoy it immensely, I'm sure of it."

She arched her eyebrow, a jolt of excitement warming her chest.

"I wish I could tell you that you make a tempting offer, Henry, but I'm afraid that you just don't," she said, smiling at him.

"Pretend all you like, but sleeping alone isn't enough, not to a woman as fierce, and passionate as you. You need more," he said, his voice deep and smooth.

"I agree," she said, smirking as she saw his eyes light up with hope. "That's why I'm going back to my hotel to have hot, rough sex with Matthew."

His mouth fell open, a choked sound leaving his throat.

"He's quite insatiable. God, the things he can make me do. I just can't get enough. Thank God we've still got a few months of shooting left. He's still got loads to teach me," she whispered, turning her head and kissing his cheek. "Good night, Henry."

She turned and walked away, not looking back.

* * *

"I hope everything works out for you, I do," Gwen said, smiling and shaking her head. "But I can't say I'm optimistic about it. I have nothing against Mary, but she just doesn't seem to be your type. She's so…locked in…all the time. Everything is so calculated. Take tonight. Every time I've seen her, she's been schmoozing with some network executive, or producer or someone like that. She's just always so…on."

Matthew smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "She works hard to advance her career. Not all of us are so fortunate as to have J.J. Abrams begging us to be in _Star Wars_."

"Fuck off," she said, her beautiful accent making it almost sound like a compliment. "I'm just saying that you're a good guy, Matthew. You're not all caught up in the business. I don't know if you can keep up with her."

"I'm just getting started," he noted. "Maybe this time next year, I'll be working the crowd the way she does."

"If you do, I'll have to beat you about the head," she warned.

"I love you for your concern, you know that," he said warmly. "But all you see is Mary when she's at one of these things, or an awards show, or whatever. That's not who she is, not really. She acts this way because she feels that she needs to, to make a lasting impression. When we're on set, when we're working, or it's just the two of us, she's not like that. She's always going to have ambition. She had it when she was a teenager. That's not all she's about, though."

Gwen nodded kindly. "Does she make you happy?"

He grinned and nodded. "Yes. Very."

"Then that's good enough for me," she replied, clinking glasses with him.

"Are you sure we can't corrupt you even a little bit?" Sophie asked, leaning into him.

"Maybe another time," he replied, smiling at her.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting," Mary called.

They all looked up at her standing before them, smiling politely as she acknowledged everyone.

"Ah, Mary!" Gwen said cheerfully, getting up from her chair and exchanging kisses with her. "You've finally finished making your rounds?"

"I have," Mary confirmed, glancing over at Sophie before turning to Matthew. "And I'm afraid I'm rather worn out. Are you ready to go, darling?"

Matthew blinked in surprise. He thought she would text him when she was ready to leave, not seek him out and refer to him so endearingly in front of everyone. "Erm, yeah. Yeah, I am," he stuttered.

"Good, then take me back to our hotel, please. I've got to get out of these heels," Mary said easily smiling at him before she went around the table and exchanged pleasantries with all the cast members that she knew.

Matthew nodded to Sophie and the rest of the cast and hurried to get out of his chair. He hugged and kissed Gwen, thanking her for taking care of him.

"I'll call you next week. Promise," he said.

"You do that," she replied. "Good night."

He met Mary at the other end of the table once she was done saying her goodbyes. His eyes lit up as she took his hand, and he confidently led her out of the bar and towards the elevators, not really caring about people looking at them as they left.

 **City View Suite, The Westin San Diego Gaslamp Quarter, San Diego, California, USA, July 2016**

Their hotel was a 15-minute walk from the party, but they took a taxi back anyway. Mary was quiet during the short drive, snuggling against Matthew, her eyes half-closed. When they reached the hotel, he paid and she went in ahead of him. There weren't any obvious paparazzi lurking about, but her Aunt Rosamund's training was too engrained in her to walk in holding Matthew's hand. When he caught up to her at the elevators, she hugged him the moment the doors were closed and they were out of sight.

"Did you have a good night?" she asked, breathing in his scent.

"I did, rather," he replied pleasantly. "You?"

"It was fine. I'm glad to be done," she said.

They wandered down the hall to their suite, the buzz and noise of the party wearing off. She sighed in relief as she got out of her shoes and went into the living room, then gasped in surprise.

Spread out on the coffee table on fine china plates were burgers and fries from In-N-Out Burger.

"What is this?" she asked, grinning as Matthew came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I thought you might be a bit hungry at the end of the night," he explained.

"How did you know?" she asked, shaking her head at the horribly delicious looking fast food.

"Anna may have mentioned that you like to have this whenever you're in the States," he said, kissing her cheek.

He guided her over to the couch and they sat down. She laughed as she grabbed a fry covered in gooey cheese, dipped it in ketchup and popped it in her mouth.

"Mmm, so bad, and yet so good," she hummed, turning and kissing him. "Thank you. You're far too good to me."

He chuckled and took a sip of Coke.

"Matthew," she called softly, reaching up and caressing his face.

"Hmm?" he responded, looking at her pleasantly.

"I'm sorry about Henry, and the trailer, and for not paying any attention to you, for making you wait, for being a horrible girlfriend this weekend, all of it," she said earnestly, her eyes begging him to understand. "I thought we'd have more time, but obviously, that was rather wishful thinking. Tonight, I wanted to really spend time with you, enjoy the party together, then leave and go off on our own, just as we planned. But there were so many people to talk to, so many that I had to make a good impression on. I wish I knew how to not care about what these people think of me, I really do. I just can't seem to manage it."

He laughed and kissed her.

"You don't need to apologize for anything. This is a work weekend for you, and you were required elsewhere. It's not as if I didn't know that going in, so I wasn't surprised, or disappointed. And I liked the trailer, honestly. I thought you were great in it," he assured her.

"If I saw a trailer that included scenes of you going at it with some bitch, I'd see red," she admitted.

"Seems to me the only trailer in my future is one of me going at it with you, so no worries," he joked.

She laughed and kissed him firmly. "You are far too good to me, really," she said. "I honestly don't know why, but I'm so grateful for it."

"You must have some idea why," he teased, putting his arm around her as she reached for another fry.

"I like to think that I do, but I saw you talking to Henry tonight, and I suppose I wondered if it's worth it for you to put up with all of this just to be with me?" she mumbled.

"I can handle Henry," he said lightly, reaching over and taking her hand in his.

"I know you can, but that doesn't mean you should have to. Was he insufferable as always?" she asked.

"He called you his 'Missus'," he revealed, shaking his head at the memory.

"Of course he did," she grumbled. "I told him about us, well, I implied it anyway, later after he already talked to you."

"Ah," he blurted out, surprised.

"I wasn't going to. It's not as if I have to answer to him, or anything," she said. "But he was being so disrespectful towards you that I wanted to put him in his place a little bit."

"What did you say?" he asked.

She smiled, looking down at their joined hands. "I may have mentioned something about how you were going to take me back here and make me your dirty girl."

He almost choked at that. "What? And what did he say to that?"

"Nothing, though the look on his face was quite perfect," she laughed. "I'm not very optimistic that it'll make any difference, but hopefully he won't be so condescending to you next time you are unlucky enough to run into him."

"That is rather hilarious, but you don't need to defend me to people like Henry, darling," he said. "I really don't care what other people think, or if they even know about us."

"Yes, but I'm far more petty than you," she muttered.

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "In the end, I just feel sorry for him, more than anything."

"You do? Why is that, pray?" she asked, sitting up and looking at him in confusion.

"Because ultimately, he's the one who's worse off, on the whole," he explained. "For all his arrogance and boasting, he's still just your co-worker. At best, he's your fake boyfriend, nothing more."

"As opposed to my real boyfriend, you're saying?" she asked, smiling at him.

"It's a much better job to have, believe me," he said smoothly.

She kissed him deeply, playing with his tongue as his hand slid down her back and cupped her arse. "Mmm, well, why don't you show me just how much better the real thing is?"

She got up from the couch, taking his hand as she headed for the bedroom.

"What about the burgers? I thought you were hungry?" he asked, smiling as he got up and followed her.

"The burgers can wait, and yes, I'm starving," she said, arching her eyebrow at him as she led him to bed.

* * *

 **Song Credits (in order of appearance):**

 **What Goes Around...Comes Around -** Justin Timberlake, (2006), Jive, Zomba

 **One Dance -** Drake feat. Wyzkid and Kyla, (2016), OVO Sound, Cash Money, Young Money


	10. Chapter 10

**Previously:**

 **City View Suite, The Westin San Diego Gaslamp Quarter, San Diego, California, USA, July 2016**

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "In the end, I just feel sorry for him, more than anything."

"You do? Why is that, pray?" she asked, sitting up and looking at him in confusion.

"Because ultimately, he's the one who's worse off, on the whole," he explained. "For all his arrogance and boasting, he's still just your co-worker. At best, he's your fake boyfriend, nothing more."

"As opposed to my real boyfriend, you're saying?" she asked, smiling at him.

"It's a much better job to have, believe me," he said smoothly.

She kissed him deeply, playing with his tongue as his hand slid down her back and cupped her arse. "Mmm, well, why don't you show me just how much better the real thing is?"

She got up from the couch, taking his hand as she headed for the bedroom.

"What about the burgers? I thought you were hungry?" he asked, smiling as he got up and followed her.

"The burgers can wait, and yes, I'm starving," she said, arching her eyebrow at him as she led him to bed.

 **Chapter 10:**

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, July 2016**

"Cut! Sorry, guys. The sheet moved too much," Thea called out.

Matthew groaned and closed his eyes, dropping his head in frustration. Inadvertently, this caused him to nuzzle against Mary's cleavage. Realizing his mistake, he lifted his head to get off of her, only to be held in place by her hands, which were now playing in his hair.

"It's quite all right," she said, smiling at him. "This is very nice."

"As nice as nice can be," he agreed, grinning up at her. "Except for the dozen people or so watching us."

Mary raised her head off the pillow and glanced around. In addition to Thea, the cinematographer, and their assistants, crew members were floating about the large King-size bed that they were lying in, adjusting the cameras and microphones, and her makeup and hair people were standing by off to the side.

"I've been in bed with a man in front of a bigger audience than this," she replied easily, laughing as he looked at her wryly.

They had been filming their first love scene for most of the morning, and it seemed to be one mishap after another. Setting up the different shots took a while to begin with, the camera initially positioned off to the side to capture them kissing and undressing each other as they moved towards the bed. Once that beginning was achieved, they stopped and reset for the actual bed scene, with the camera positioned above them, looking down. With everything ready, they stripped, Mary to a flesh-coloured pair of panties and silicone patches covering her breasts, Matthew to boxer briefs. Even though they weren't doing nudity, they had to give the impression that they were naked, which meant they had to be careful as they moved to not ruin the shot by revealing their underwear.

Choreographing the simulated sex was another education for Matthew. He and Mary had gone back and forth over it for the past few days, even writing it out step-by-step, then walking through the actual motions during their rehearsals. It was bizarre to hear his girlfriend speaking so detached and mechanically about what they were doing. _'Pull my hair a bit, then kiss my neck as if you're trying to mark me. I'm going to start my hands at your shoulder blades, hold them there as if I don't know what to do next, then move them down beneath the blanket and grab your ass to show that I'm getting into it. That's it, yes, exactly, good. Be rough with me. Grind your hips. No, not like that. Harder. You've got to move more so it looks like you're really thrusting…'_

She was literally making it feel like school.

It was stranger still to come to set and show Thea what they had planned before they started filming. After they ran through the scene with her, essentially pretending to make love while she watched, the director nodded and said she liked it, then started barking orders to the crew. Mary had gone to wardrobe to get ready, leaving Matthew standing alone in his robe to contemplate just how absurd it all was.

They had filmed the sex part of the scene eight times so far, all with mixed results. In one take, Mary's hair swept across her face in a rather unattractive manner. In another, she opened her eyes and looked directly into the camera when she wasn't supposed to. One particularly noteworthy attempt was going well until their kissing became far sloppier than they intended. Thea thought it looked hot, but both Mary and Matthew argued that it would look the exact opposite of sexy to see a zoomed-in shot of them literally swapping spit on the big screen.

Rolling off of her and pulling the blanket up to fully cover her chest, Matthew sat up, waiting as the crew came forward to adjust the linens and check the lighting was still good. Before today, he never expected that being on top of Mary in bed could ever feel anything but hot and sexy, but he had to admit that all the starting and stopping, the fact that the crew was all watching them, and having to constantly remind himself of what the sequence of steps was, served to thoroughly quell his arousal.

Not that it stamped it out completely.

"Over to the mirror," one of the makeup assistants called, and Mary put on her robe and got out of bed, walking off-set to the hair and makeup station.

Regardless of the circumstances, he was still in bed with Mary and they were still practically naked. Her breasts were partially covered but he could still feel them pressed against his chest. He knew exactly what she was going to do before she did it, but he still felt her hands, her lips, smelled her scent and heard her fake moans, which sounded remarkably similar to her real ones. Though his mind knew they were just acting, his body didn't seem to care about the distinction.

And Mary had done absolutely nothing to keep him calm. Quite the contrary, actually. He looked over at her and frowned slightly when she put on her robe and got out of bed, heading over to a full-length mirror set up off-set with her hair and makeup people.

At first he thought that it was just coincidence that Mary moved her thigh against him as they kissed, just unintentional when her foot seemed to caress his leg, just a part of the scene when she lifted her hips at the same moment that he was supposed to duck under the covers and move down her body. By the eighth take, he knew better. Why did she have to get him so worked up when he was trying to focus on the scene? He took a deep breath and looked down at the floor, trying to calm himself before the next take.

"Matthew seems a bit…uptight," Thea said quietly, coming to Mary's side.

"What do you mean?" Mary asked lightly, looking at her reflection in the mirror as her makeup was touched up.

"He's not as loose and comfortable as he was in rehearsal," Thea continued. "I don't really know what to say to him to get him to relax more. I keep calling out for the two of you to just go with whatever comes to mind, but he doesn't seem to be getting it."

"He's just nervous. It's his first love scene on camera," Mary said easily.

"Right, right, of course," Thea agreed. "But this scene is really important, yeah? It's got to have some…"

"Heat?" Mary suggested.

"Yeah, heat," Thea said, smiling at her sheepishly. "Do you think he just needs another drink?"

"No, if he drinks too much, he gets terribly grumpy," Mary said offhandedly. "We've both had more than enough shots to calm our nerves, as it is."

Thea frowned at her in question.

"Leave it to me," Mary said confidently. "I'll have a little chat with him."

"Thanks, Mary. I just figured you could give him the benefit of your experience," Thea said.

Mary nodded and smiled as the staff left her. She walked over to the bed, looking at Matthew sitting off the side, leaned over, his elbows on his knees. Part of her actually would have enjoyed seeing Thea try to explain to him how to properly act out a sex scene, but it was better that she do it. Unbeknownst to the director and everyone else on the closed set, except Anna, Mary had far more effective methods when it came to getting through to Matthew.

"Ready?" she asked him cheerfully, coming to his side and taking off her robe. A crew member came over and took it away, deliberately averting her eyes.

He looked up and swallowed, taking in her nearly naked body. "Yeah," he nodded.

"Good," she said crisply, bending over and crawling into bed. She knew she was giving the rest of the crew a bit of a show, but she didn't mind. She had his attention, which was all that mattered.

He watched with far more interest than he wanted to as she moved over to the centre of the bed and slid under the covers. Sighing quietly, he turned and got in next to her, trying to think of anything but how he was about to move between her legs again. As he took his position above her, she bent her knee and brushed against his growing arousal for a moment, before spreading her legs and allowing him to settle over her. She reached around him to pull the duvet up to his waist, her fingers trailing over his ass lightly.

He grunted at the contact and frowned at her.

"What?" she asked, smirking up at him. "Something wrong?"

"You know what," he said petulantly. "You're doing that on purpose."

"Doing what? I'm working, Matthew," she said innocently, arching her eyebrow at him. She could feel him pressed against her, and a ripple of desire flew through her delightfully.

"I don't believe the scene calls for so much…rubbing and touching," he said tightly, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard him. "Particularly beneath the blankets where the camera can't see."

"You're obviously imagining things," she said drily. "We're on set. This is just another scene. Let's just get through it as we practised, all right?"

"Sounds good to me," he said, nodding in relief. Perhaps he had been imagining things. They were moving close together, after all. It wasn't as if Mary could control just how affected he was by her.

"It would be entirely unprofessional of us to take advantage of being so close together, wearing almost nothing," she continued lightly, looking up into his eyes.

He blinked and looked at her suspiciously. "Yes, yes it would be. Completely unprofessional."

"We're just co-workers in this moment," she stated. "You may have made me scream when you fucked me from behind in the shower last night, but now we're at work and this is all make-believe. It's a completely different situation, obviously."

He swallowed as the vivid image invaded his mind unbidden – her naked body, bent over, hands braced against the glass wall of the shower, her wet hair spilling down her bare back, her loud cries echoing through the steam-filled air as she rocked on the balls of her feet in time with his hard thrusts.

"Mary," he warned her.

"Now, if we weren't true professionals," she noted. "If we were incapable of restraint, well, we would take advantage of the situation. You could just pull my panties to the side and be inside of me in an instant, and no one would be the wiser. You could fuck me for real while we're doing the scene, in front of all of these people, and only the two of us would know. I'd just hold on to you and take it, over and over, and everyone would think my moans and writhing were just me putting on an act."

A mixture of shock and dark fascination hit him, his eyes unable to turn away from hers.

"If we weren't true professionals, that is, which we are," she said easily, a hint of playfulness creeping into her detached tone.

"Yes, erm…putting ourselves on display…acting in such a…reckless manner is hardly a wise thing to do," he managed, glaring at her as her hand ghosted below the duvet and touched him purposefully.

"It would be absolutely wicked and wrong of us," she whispered, arching her eyebrow at him. "Maybe if I was the type of woman who got turned on by being put in my place by a man, used for his pleasure, all with the risk of being caught and found out, then this situation might prove irresistible. Maybe if I was the type of woman who craved being in bed with my boyfriend and feeling his gorgeous body so close to me, I would barely be able to contain myself."

He grunted and tried to stifle his flaring arousal. He could have stilled her hand, or rolled off of her, but he didn't.

"If I was that type of woman, which I'm not," she said casually.

Her fingers squeezed him and he swallowed, the muscles in his arms and legs tensing as he held himself above her.

"Mary," he growled quietly.

"Let's give them a bit of a show, darling," she teased. "The scene needs more passion, more heat, and I need you to give it to me the way I know you can."

"I'm…argh…I'm trying to just get on with it as we rehearsed," he rasped, her fingers still fondling him beneath the covers.

"I know you are, and you're doing very well," she said kindly. "But for this next take, really let me have it. Nico isn't gentle, we know that, and Christina doesn't want him to be. Go on and show me what I've been missing all this time. Give it to me the way my husband can't."

He gritted his teeth, her suggestions blending with all their preparations in his mind and transforming this from just another take to immersing them into the scenario of the plot.

"He's richer than you, more sophisticated, more successful, more everything, but this is where he can't compete. You're going to teach his wife what it's like to be with a real man. I want revenge on him for cheating on me. I want to feel that thrill that he felt the first time he nailed his dumb slut behind my back. I think this is just a one-time thing, but you're going to change all that. You're going to give me mind-blowing, life-changing, amazing sex. I'm going to want it all the time after you open my eyes to what fucking really is."

"Mary," he sneered, breathing harshly through his nose, his hands on either side of her digging into the mattress.

"Call me Christina," she whispered, encouraging him with a nod of her head.

"Christina," he said, looking her in the eyes.

"Fuck me, Nico," she moaned softly. "I need a good hard fuck so bad."

His cheeks warmed, his hips pressing against her hand.

"Ready on set?" Thea called out, lifting him slightly from his stupor, though he couldn't pull his eyes from Mary's teasing face.

"Let's take it from the kiss again. Just go with whatever you two are comfortable with and let it play out," Thea said encouragingly. "And mark! And action!"

Mary reached up and framed his face with her hands as she pulled him down into a kiss. He pressed his lips to hers, moving with her as they turned their heads back and forth, the kiss growing more urgent.

He snarled and took hold of her wrists, pulling her hands from his face and pinning her arms to the bed. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, then her neck and shoulder. She closed her eyes and gasped as he moved on her, his hips thrusting against hers, their bodies clearly shifting under the duvet. She kept her arms out to her sides as he covered her breasts with his hands and moved down her body, his head slipping below the blanket Though he was hidden from the camera now, he pressed kisses to her bare skin, drawing real moans from her parted lips.

As they went through the agreed-upon steps in the scene, both of them thought about what they would do when they were finished here and finally got some proper alone time with each other. Visions of all the wicked things they would try spurred them on, and by the time Thea called the take finished minutes later, they were both breathing heavily, their heartbeats racing.

"Print that. Let's hope it doesn't melt the memory card," Thea said, grinning as she applauded her actors, who slowly disengaged themselves.

"Congratulations. You've gotten through your first love scene. You did well, actually," Mary said, smiling at him as she sat up.

"Likewise," he said wryly, smiling at her. He held up the duvet to cover her as she slipped into her robe. "And thanks for helping me find the proper motivation."

"You helped me, too," she said quietly so only he could hear. "It was rather easy, in the end, thanks to your...diligence. I found myself not having to think about what was to happen next."

"I didn't need to remind myself of anything, either," he said, grinning playfully. "I suppose we rehearsed so much that it all became second nature, eventually."

"Partly, yes," she agreed. "Though I did have rather vivid thoughts as we were carrying on."

"Vivid thoughts?" he questioned, eyeing her carefully. "Care to let me in on them?"

"I may as well since you were in them," she teased.

"I see..." he managed, swallowing.

She leaned towards him and whispered quietly. "I was thinking about how when we wrap this scene and get out of here, I want to go back to yours and run it through all over again, except for real this time. No pasties, no underwear, no holding back."

His eyes widened briefly. "I…I thought you didn't get aroused when you were in work mode?"

"I don't, well, I never have before," she said, smiling at him mischievously. "I suppose being with you affected me more than I expected."

"That's a wrap for the day, people! Great work!" Thea called out.

Mary arched her eyebrow at him, then got up out of bed, adjusting her robe before being escorted away by Anna. Matthew watched her go, then shook his head before grabbing his own robe and standing up.

"Uh, want to see it, Matthew?" one of the assistants asked, pointing towards one of the monitors that they used to watch the playback of each scene.

"No, I'm good, thanks," Matthew said, grinning as he took off briskly for his trailer.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

"Are you sure that you'll be all right on your own?"

"Yes, Mom, please don't worry," Anna said, smiling and rolling her eyes as she walked around the kitchen, her headset firmly in her ear. She picked up the sliced onions from the kitchen island and placed them into the bowl with the bell peppers and mushrooms that she'd already prepared. Her mother-in-law had called while she was in the middle of getting dinner ready, and since it was 7 a.m. in Shanghai, Anna felt an obligation to talk to her, not that she minded anyway. "I'll be busy with work mostly, so the week will go by in a flash."

"I told Alex that he doesn't need to stay the extra day to see us. He should just fly back as soon as his meetings are done."

"It's fine," Anna said, shaking her head as she took out the steak from the fridge and brought it to the cutting board. She opened a drawer and grabbed a knife, then went about slicing the rib eye into thin strips. "He hasn't seen you in so long. I'm just sorry that I won't be there."

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's so hot here now and the air quality isn't too good."

She smiled. Ever since she decided to share the news that she and Alex were trying to have a baby, both Mum and her mother-in-law had been beside themselves with joy. While Mum called her even more often with unsolicited advice, which she expected, Alex's mother was still respectful as always and gave her plenty of space. It was cute, actually, how she tried to rein herself in, but it just meant she expressed her concern in other ways.

"I tried that ginseng that you suggested," Anna said. "It tastes delicious."

"Oh, good. Is Alex home yet? He shouldn't be taking this long."

"Should be any minute now," she answered, smiling again. Whereas Mum always taught her that it was Anna's duty to take care of her husband's every need, Alex's parents believed the man of the house was supposed to provide for his wife, and they became even more adamant with him now regarding Anna's welfare. Though both attitudes were rather archaic – the idea that Anna shouldn't exert herself with anything so she would be in a better condition to give Alex a child was preposterous – it was still rather fun to have his parents decidedly on her side.

"Okay, well just have him call me later, or even tomorrow. It's nothing important."

"I will," Anna said. "Luv you."

She hung up the call and put her headset back on the charging cradle. Taking the steak strips over to the stove, she placed them next to the bowl of vegetables and tested the wok by flicking some water onto the hot surface. Satisfied when the drops evaporated right away, she poured the grapeseed oil in and went about cooking the stir fry.

"Now that smells delicious," Alex called, coming into the kitchen. He kissed her cheek on his way to the fridge.

"Your mom called," she said, rocking the wok back and forth as the steak and onions sizzled loudly.

"What did she say? That I'm a horrible husband for leaving my wife to go to China on business for a week?" he asked, getting a beer from the fridge.

"More or less," she said, smiling at him, then pouring the steak and onions on to a plate and throwing the vegetables into the wok. "She said you don't have to visit them on the last day and you should fly back to me as soon as you're done your meetings."

"If she keeps bringing it up, I just might do it," he grumbled. "It'll save me from having to pick up all the gifts and clothes that I'm sure she's bought for you."

"I think she's sweet, both of them are," she stated. "It's far better talking to her than having to listen to Mum tell me what times of the day I should be having sex with you."

"Ugh, come on, love, we're about to eat," he groaned, getting the dishes out and setting the table.

She laughed. "Well, you'll be pleased to hear that her latest theory 'from the girls in her yoga class' is that we should do it twice-a-day, every second day."

"Twice-a-day?!" he blurted out, looking at her incredulously.

She laughed and nodded, putting the meat back in the wok with the vegetables and finishing the stir fry.

"Damn," he said, nodding his head as he considered the idea. "That's…awesome."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, plating their food onto a large serving platter and turning off the stove. A gasp left her lips when she turned around and he took her into his arms.

"Down boy," she managed between kisses, though she did grope him lightly anyway. "Dinner first."

He released her and went over to get a large bowl of rice for them. "Well, if I'm going to be away for a week, then that's six or eight sessions that we should take care of in advance, no?"

She laughed and shook her head. Before meeting him at the dinner table, she frowned at the previously unseen plastic container filled with cherry tomatoes sitting on the counter.

"From Mrs. Chen?" she asked, looking at him for an explanation.

"From Mrs. Chen," he confirmed, bringing the rice over to the table. "Straight from her garden."

"That's nice of her," she noted, coming over and sitting down at the dinner table. She unfolded her linen napkin and put it across her lap before she took a sip of her sparkling water.

"I think it's a not-so-subtle message from her to remind me to make sure I keep feeding you," he said. "If we don't have a baby within a year, she's going to blame me."

She laughed. Weeks ago when she decided they could start trying seriously, she had worried about setting up any kind of schedule with Alex. As much as they wanted a baby, she didn't want him to think that they were only having sex for the sake of conceiving, which she knew was a trap many couples could fall into when they began to think more about having sex at optimal times, rather than making love when they were in the mood for it. Yes, a child would change their lives, but she was steadfast that their marriage was important as well, and the last thing she wanted was for Alex to feel as if she was just using him to get pregnant.

As usual, her concern was misplaced since the thought never entered his mind. They had sex quite often already as it was, but now that she was actually making more of an effort to come home at a decent hour and set aside time where they turned off their phones and focused entirely on each other, he was loving every second of it. She looked over at him in amusement as he sat down and prepared a bowl of the stir fry for her. In her determination to make sure sex didn't feel like a chore, she had bought new lingerie and some intimate outfits to wear for him. She hadn't even used any of them yet. There was no need. Whenever she initiated, he was up for it immediately. His reliability and endurance were actually rather thrilling for her, and she found that she looked forward to getting home to him even more than she did before. With the Olympics having just started, they usually stayed up to watch after dinner before heading to bed. She would sometimes feel tired at the end of such a long day, but he was always raring to go. In truth, even though the increased sex was her idea, she was having trouble keeping up with him.

"Seriously, though," he said. "Are you going to just chill while I'm gone? You should go out a bit, maybe."

"I'm sure something will come up," she replied, picking up her chopsticks and grabbing a piece of steak on the third try. "That new PA that I met in San Diego is coming into town. I'll probably help him look for a place for Tony Foyle, maybe take him out and introduce him to some of the crew who are still around."

"Always concerned about making others feel welcome," he joked, smiling at her.

"Well, it makes for a more harmonious set," she reasoned. "To be honest, Mary doesn't care much for Tony. She says he had a crush on her when they were younger and he's rather annoying. So, if I take care of Mr. Green, then that's less opportunity for Tony to try and bother Mary during filming next year."

"As if that will stop him," he said, laughing. "Seems as though half the British actors who come over here have a crush on Mary at some point."

She laughed and swallowed her mouthful of stir fry.

"It does seem that way sometimes, yeah," she agreed. "Anyway, if I don't get him squared away now, he'll just bug me about it in a few months' time, so better to get it over with."

"Seems to be the same pain either way," he said, sipping his fruit smoothie.

"Well, I am expecting to have far less available time in the New Year, if you prove to be as virile as I've been led to believe," she teased, popping another piece of steak into her mouth.

"No pressure there," he said sarcastically.

"Just your status as a man, is all," she joked.

He looked at her pointedly. "It is the best of both worlds, I suppose," he said. "If it happens quickly for us, then great. If not, well, we get to keep trying. Also great."

He gave her a smirk, then went about quickly wolfing down his meal.

"Babes, slow down," she said, shaking her head. "There's no rush."

"Just want to hurry up and get on to dessert," he said, looking at her intently.

She smiled and went back to her dinner, feeling delightfully warm under her husband's gaze.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, August 2016**

"Isobel," Violet called, squinting as she peered through her glasses at the tablet resting on her lap. She had done that thing with her fingers that Sybil had taught her to enlarge the photos and text on her screen, but it seemed the infernal machine wasn't choosing to cooperate as all she saw was a single word blown up to ridiculous proportions.

"Yes?" Isobel replied, coming into the bedroom drying her hands with a towel. She smiled at the Dowager Countess, propped up in bed with a wall of pillows, her hair freshly brushed and styled following the lovely tea they'd had with Cora in the rose garden. This had been one of Violet's better days, and she was grateful for it.

"It's Matthew," Violet said, handing the cordless phone to her. "Go into the sitting room and talk to him, won't you? I'm trying to take a rest if I can just figure out how to close this ridiculous 'e-book' as it's called."

Isobel took the phone in one hand and reached over and snatched the tablet away with her other. She flicked her fingers across the screen, closing the e-book and opening the music player so that Violet could listen to some soothing Mozart to help her nap.

"Splendid," Violet said with approval, settling back against the pillows.

Isobel smiled and shook her head as she went into the sitting room. She brought the phone to her ear after she closed the door.

"I'm so sorry about that, darling," she said cheerfully. "How are you?"

There was a slight gasp on the other end, then a lengthy pause before a polite voice replied.

"Isobel. Hello."

Isobel blinked. "Mary. Well, hello, my dear. How are you?"

"Well, thank you," Mary answered, closing her eyes and cringing. "And you?"

"Fine, yes," Isobel replied. "Is Matthew there? Your Granny told me he was waiting on the line for me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Matthew isn't here. Granny had just put me on hold during our call. She said she needed to ask you something," Mary explained.

"Ah," Isobel said, smiling ruefully and glaring at the closed door leading to the bedroom. "It seems we've been thrown together deliberately."

"It does, yes. Classic Granny," Mary agreed. "Well, erm...I'm sorry that I haven't called you myself. I know that Matthew shared our news with you. I expect you have a strong opinion on the matter."

"I do," Isobel acknowledged.

"I...well...the thing is that I can't tell you anything to reassure you, unfortunately, and that's my own fault, I know. If I tell you that I love him, which I do, very much, there's no real reason for you to believe me, given our history. If I tell you that this time will be different, which I believe it will be, I can't tell you precisely why I believe that. If it would help at all for me to tell you that I intend to marry him, I'm afraid that I can't tell you that. I honestly don't know right now, which I'm sure must lower your opinion of me even more, with good reason..."

Her voice trailed off as she rolled her eyes. If Granny wasn't ill, Mary would wish all manner of punishments upon her for ambushing her like this. She hadn't called Isobel because she felt she had no clue what to say to her, which she was now proving quite conclusively.

"Mary," Isobel began carefully. "You have always known me to be honest and forthright, and I shall not be anything less than that with you now. I am concerned, very concerned. When Matthew told me that the two of you were going to try again together, I was quite shocked. I always assumed that you'd closed that door with some finality."

Mary closed her eyes and could only nod, even though Isobel couldn't see her do it.

"I don't need to remind you that when you moved to Canada, Matthew was gutted, absolutely gutted. Of course, it would have been very awkward for the two of you to maintain even a friendship after you rejected his proposal, but he never imagined you would leave England, and Europe entirely. You may as well have gone to the Moon. He firmly believed that he would never, ever see you again, and that very thought tore him apart."

Mary clenched her teeth and rubbed her hand across her forehead, praying for restraint. Obviously, Isobel would take Matthew's side. He was her only child, and for so long had been the entire focus of her life after the passing of Dr. Crawley over a decade ago. She was the quickest to defend him and recite his accomplishments and best qualities. With her, it was always Matthew this, Matthew that, Matthew, Matthew, Matthew. Obviously, Mary knew the breakup had hurt Matthew, but it had hurt her, too. As much as she wanted to defend herself to Isobel, she remained silent. This was a new start for her and Matthew, and dredging up the past, especially to his mother, would do them no good at all.

"Now, when the two of you came back to visit your Granny, I was grateful for her sake, but the reason I didn't call Matthew back myself was because I didn't want him to be embroiled in the exact scenario that ended up playing out," Isobel continued. "I know it was probably difficult for you as well to pretend that you were still together, but for Matthew, it was asking far too much of him to risk resurrecting his old feelings to carry out such a ruse."

Mary nodded again, praying that Isobel would get on with it, just threaten her with a cold _'don't you dare hurt my son again, you bitch'_ or whatever. Drawing this out was excruciating, which she suspected was the exact reason why Isobel was doing it.

"When you were here, though, it was quite clear to me that Matthew was still in love with you," Isobel relented, her voice softening. "As much as I want to protect him, I raised him to be true to himself, always. He's no good to anyone, otherwise, and his love for you is woven into his very veins, I believe. I may not be entirely on board with his decisions, but I have no doubt he is following his heart, doing what he believes he must, and I cannot in good conscience fault him for that, or raise any objection to it, regardless of how afraid I may be."

Mary's eyes shot open in shock and guarded hope.

"If you're asking for my forgiveness, Mary, which I don't believe that you need, then I will say that I've chosen to put aside whatever happened in your past. Matthew told me he is treating this as a new beginning, and that he isn't assuming anything from your history. So, for the happiness of my son, I will do the same. I want him to be happy. He tells me that you make him happy. Continue to do so and you will have my gratitude."

"Thank you, Isobel," Mary said quietly.

"As difficult as it may be to believe, I want you to be happy as well, Mary. I hope that you are. Goodbye," Isobel said, waiting for Mary to say goodbye and hang up before she turned off the phone and went stomping back into the bedroom.

"You are an absolutely odious woman when you wish to be, you know," she grumbled, putting the phone down on the nightstand and getting into bed.

"Did you say your piece?" Violet asked, keeping her eyes closed.

"Yes," Isobel said, frowning at her deceptively innocent-looking face.

"And Mary heard you out?" Violet questioned.

"Yes," Isobel confirmed. "To her credit, she did not argue, but maintained that she is in love with Matthew, which was good of her, I'll admit."

"Then all is as it should be," Violet said smugly.

"I hope you're proven right, in the end. I know how you hate to be wrong," Isobel noted.

"I wouldn't know. I'm not familiar with the sensation," Violet said easily.

She held her hand out between them, palm up. Isobel saw it and gave her a rueful smile, then took hold of it.

"Is it too warm out for a walk later, do you think?" Violet asked, clasping her hand and pulling it tight to her stomach.

"A walk will be lovely," Isobel agreed, smiling as she settled against the pillows. "We'll go out just for a bit and be back in time for dinner."

The two of them fell asleep as the sun cleared the clouds overhead and shone freshly through the large windows of the bedroom.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

"Just wait over here," Lavinia said, motioning off to the side. "They should be done with this set of shots soon."

Matthew nodded politely and stepped away, swallowing as he stood in the back and tried to appear casual. This smaller soundstage had been set up for a photo shoot today, the studio taking advantage of the four principal cast members being on set at the same time to take photographs for the promotional materials, movie posters and other marketing aids for the film. It was actually quite exciting. As with all things involving _Shattered_ , Matthew was experiencing the business on a far greater scale than he was previously used to. He most likely wasn't going to make it on to the movie poster, except maybe an alternate version that was sent to Asia or something, but being part of this new experience was interesting, nonetheless.

Once again, though, he had to focus on remembering it was all just work.

Rick was sitting on the bed on the set, red silk bedsheets spread out beneath him. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his hair was gelled and styled. He looked directly into the camera with a cocky glare, as Natalie and Mary sat on either side of him. Mary rested her head on his shoulder, while Natalie kissed his face.

"Good, good," the photographer said, snapping away. "Now Natalie, turn his face towards you. That's it. Mary, look down and away from them. Perfect. Okay, Rick lean in for a kiss but stop just short. Closer, Natalie. Closer. That's it. Hold that. Beautiful."

Matthew sighed as he watched his girlfriend posing in bed with another couple. He knew that the movie poster would be the three of them in some kind of racy tableau. They had taken pictures fully clothed as well, so it wasn't all about selling sex. Before he had left for wardrobe to get changed, he had seen them all standing against a black backdrop, Mary wearing a more conservative dress than Natalie, Rick in a suit. Mary was holding Rick's hand and looking away, while Natalie was standing just on his other side, facing him and sharing a flirty smile. They had moved to the bed and taken off some of their clothes while he was away, apparently.

"Okay, can we just get a touch-up, please?" the photographer called.

Hair and makeup people came forward, attending to Mary and Natalie, applying a touch of oil to Rick's chest and arms and rearranging the pillows behind them.

"All right, we're going to do an overhead for this one. Rick, just lie back in the centre. Mary lie down and turn away from him. Natalie, lie down and face him. We're going to put a blanket over you, so Natalie put your one leg over his so we see that you're tangled together. Mary, just move over a bit so there's a clear gap. That's it."

The crew came over and spread a white sheet over them once they were in position. The photographer used a step ladder to perch above them and pointed her camera down at the bed.

"Good, good. Rick, touch her chin. Good. Natalie, look deep into his eyes. Perfect. Mary, close your eyes and drop your head a bit. That's great," the photographer said, calling out the instructions.

Matthew frowned as the crew replaced the white sheet with a red sheet and the photographer ran the same poses again.

It was all part of the marketing machine for the movie, Matthew knew. Advance promotion for the movie beyond just releasing the official trailers was important to build interest up to opening weekend. Matthew's past projects usually didn't have much of an advertising budget, and the ones that did had not included him in the campaign.

Lately, the entertainment magazines and industry papers were full of ads and posters for the next season of _Paladin_ and congratulatory notes on the Emmy nominations. The official show art had been released, showing Mary and Henry locked in a passionate embrace. It seemed that Matthew couldn't go a day without seeing Mary almost kissing another man. Her own social media accounts were full of photos of her and Henry from Comic-Con and the official show poster. He didn't say anything to her about it, didn't want to let on that it bothered him, didn't want to be that guy – the jealous boyfriend, irrational and controlling – but it irked him all the same, and now he had to watch her literally between the sheets with another man, and Natalie as well.

"Matthew? Here's the storyboard for your shoot," Lavinia called, coming to his side.

He blinked and turned towards her, nodding quickly and looking at her tablet as she swiped through the series of sketches that had been developed for his part of the photo shoot.

"Most of your shots will be with Mary, obviously," she explained. "She's going to change into a different dress, and we'll have different poses before we move on to the shots on the bed."

He nodded. "Great," he said politely.

"You'll do great, Matthew. Just relax and enjoy it," she said encouragingly, patting his shoulder before she left to speak to another member of the crew about something.

He did relax, if only a bit. Yes, enduring all of this was exhausting, but just as in real life, soon it would be his time with Mary, just the two of them, and they would have their own flirty poses, their own sizzling photos. All in all, he ought to consider himself lucky, he thought.

"Great job all of you! Great job!" the photographer called as Mary, Natalie and Rick all rose from the bed. They got back into their robes and wandered off to change back into their outfits for the next part of the shoot.

"All right?" Mary asked, smiling as she passed Matthew.

"Great," he said, smiling and nodding to her.

"I'll just be a few minutes," she said, heading off to wardrobe.

He watched her go, then looked back at the set. The bed was being remade and a white backdrop was being set up just next to it. As he looked on, it dawned on him that this would be his introduction to the world, for better or for worse. This was his first role in a major film with a worldwide release. Perhaps his face wouldn't make it on to the movie poster, or even appear in magazines, but there was a chance that the photos taken today would come across the desk of another director, or producer, or studio executive. As superficial as the whole thing was, this was his chance to make some sort of impression on everyone.

He glanced around, then went off to a quiet corner close by and began doing push-ups.

* * *

"Okay, Matthew, now look down at her chest. That's it. Mary, turn your head away. Gorgeous."

Mary leaned a bit back against Matthew's front, turning her head to look away as she felt him staring over her shoulder and down at her cleavage. They had done a number of group shots with all four actors, then some rather unintentionally funny photos of Matthew and Rick glaring at each other. With Rick and Natalie dismissed for the day, it was just her and Matthew finishing up the last shots of them standing together before they moved to the bed.

As Christina was supposed to be the reserved and cold wife, compared to the wild and fiery mistress of Natalie's Sidney, her outfit was conservative to match. She wore a simple blue, long-sleeved, slim-fitting dress, with a vee-neck showing a bit of skin. The skirt went down to her knees and she completed the outfit with white heels. Matthew was wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, the rugged, basic look of Nico supposed to contrast her more sophisticated and elegant one. When they began, Matthew seemed rather tense, a bit unsure of himself. He began to loosen up as they went along, and now he was more at ease, responding to instruction far better.

"Take Mary's left hand in yours, Matthew. Raise it up to her chest and hold it there. Keep looking down at her. Mary, keep looking away. Perfect."

For the shoot, Mary was wearing a sparkling diamond ring and gold wedding band on her left ring finger. Though they were just props, she did feel a bit of a shiver when Matthew took her hand and held it against her, just as she felt a bit of a thrill when the photographer told them to kiss. She had gone on and on about how she was a professional, how this was just work, and how she wasn't affected by it. She did believe that, but she also had to admit that it never felt like this during shoots with Henry, or any of the other actors who played her romantic interest on screen. Matthew's touch and presence just felt different somehow, and she found herself surprisingly not wanting to fight against it.

"Great. Great. Okay, let's move to the bed."

She smiled as she stepped away, still holding on to his hand, and led him to the bed.

* * *

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Mary said, heading into his trailer first and going to the back to sit down on the bed.

"I actually enjoyed it more than I expected I would," Matthew admitted, following her and handing her the bottle of water he had grabbed from catering before opening his own Coke.

"Who knows? There might be a giant billboard of the two of us kissing put up somewhere in the world by next year," she joked.

"Hopefully, it won't be in London. I should hate to think of what your parents would say about that," he replied, sipping his drink.

"They'd probably take a photo and frame it," she said drily. "They love you, you know that."

"All the same, I'm trying not to think about them watching the movie and seeing some of our more passionate scenes," he said.

She laughed and shook her head. "It will likely come as a shock, yes. I find that I look twice when I see the rough cuts sometimes, not really believing that it's us on there."

"Life can unfold in rather interesting ways, can't it?" he asked.

"It most certainly can," she said, smiling at him warmly.

He grinned and sipped his Coke.

"What's all this?" she asked, seeing a stack of papers on the small desk for the first time.

"Oh. Joe sent me a few scripts," he explained. "Apparently Thea or one of the producers put in a good word for me and my name got out to some projects that are in the works. They got in touch with Joe and he got me the scripts. I was quite surprised, actually."

"It's about time that he does some work on your behalf," she grumbled. "He's bloody useless, that one."

"He means well," he said, shrugging his shoulders. Mary had never liked his agent, even back when they were in England. With the success of _Paladin_ , she had signed a joint agreement with CAA, one of the biggest agencies in the world. While her Aunt Rosamund was still her agent, she now had access to all the resources of CAA to help market and promote her, particularly in North America. By contrast, when he made the move to Toronto, he had stuck with Joseph Molesley & Associates, a much smaller operation that represented actors who had much smaller profiles. Joe had his faults, yes, forgetfulness, disorganization, and horrible time management chief among them, but he was an old friend, and despite Mary's numerous complaints, Matthew never felt he had cause to fault him, really. His agent was just a representative, a middle man. It was Matthew's work and talent that was supposed to get him noticed. Mary always thought such an approach was naïve and ignorant. There were hundreds of thousands of talented actors in the world who remained unemployed and unnoticed. An agent's job was to push his client to the front of the queue, which was something she had no confidence that 'Molesley' as she called him, could do for Matthew.

Before Mary could retort and list all of Joe's faults once more, they heard a knock at the door to the trailer.

"Expecting someone?" she asked, looking at him.

"No," he said, frowning at the door. "Come in!" he called.

The door opened and the photographer from earlier came in.

"Matthew…oh, Mary! Hi!" she said.

"Hi," Mary replied, curious as to what the photographer was doing here.

"Matthew, I just wanted to tell you that you did great today. Someone mentioned to me that it was your first big photo shoot, or whatever. You were really good. You too, Mary," the photographer said cheerfully.

"Thanks," Matthew said, glancing over at Mary, then back to the photographer.

Mary just nodded, wondering why the photographer would go out of her way to come to Matthew's trailer to tell him this. She was eyeing him with a sort of, enthusiasm, that Mary found strange.

"Anyway, I just wanted to talk to you briefly, Matthew. I've got a shoot coming up next week for another client of mine. It's for Giorgio Armani. They have a cologne called Armani Code and they're doing a social media advertising campaign where they have people in different cities all over the world using the product. It's a whole mix of people – not just celebrities, or athletes, or anything – and I really think you would be great for it," the photographer said.

Mary's eyes widened in shock.

"Me?" Matthew said, completely flummoxed. "You think I could be in an Armani campaign? I find that rather impossible to believe."

"Don't speak so soon," the photographer said, smiling at him. "You're a fresh face, which is exactly what they're looking for. Just let me send them some shots of you, just to see what they think. If they give me the go ahead, then I'll get in touch with your agent, or your manager, your people, whoever, and we'll make it happen. If not, that's the end of it. It's going to be really organic, simple, quick and easy. We're just going to take you and some other people to an iconic Toronto landmark and shoot a few photos. A couple hours of your time, max, and this is Armani we're talking about, so you'll be paid well."

"Why not?" Mary asked, smiling at him encouragingly. "It can't hurt to see what they think, can it?"

"All right," he said slowly, looking over at Mary. "I suppose it can't hurt, yeah."

"Great! I'll let you know what the answer is. Here's my card, and I'll talk to you soon!" the photographer said pleasantly. She waved to Matthew and Mary and left the trailer.

"Goodness, I'm dating an Armani model," Mary teased, smiling as Matthew came over and sat down next to her on the bed.

"You're dating a soon-to-be rejected Armani model candidate," he corrected her. "A giant brand like them would never use me. They've already got armies of models, and that bloke who played Captain Kirk in the new _Star Trek_."

"That's exactly why they'll love you," she said. "You're new, undiscovered, and absolutely gorgeous."

His face lit up at her compliment. "Gorgeous, you say?"

"I've thought so for years," she replied, leaning over and kissing him. "Although perhaps I shouldn't be so supportive of this. Once your photo is all over social media, you'll have women everywhere swooning."

"I doubt that," he said, laughing in disbelief. "Anyway, what are we doing about dinner?"

"I'm in the mood for Chinese, actually," she said. "Someplace authentic where no one will know or care who we are, and we can barely pronounce any of the dishes."

He laughed and kissed her softly. "I know just the spot."

 **The Residences of Maple Leaf Square, Downtown Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

"It's two bedrooms, plus a den, beautiful views of the water, and comes in at just under 2,200 square feet, and fully furnished. It's perfect for a young couple like yourselves," the real estate agent beamed, sweeping her arm across the large living room.

Anna blinked in shock.

"Oh no, we aren't a couple. We're just colleagues," Alexander Green said, laughing and shaking his head. "As much of an honour that it would be, I would never be able to afford such a beautiful ring."

Anna smiled and looked away.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," the agent said. "Yeah, I just saw the ring and…well, you're a very photogenic couple, so…anyway…erm…"

"This is a decent layout," Green said, moving on. "I'd like to see the master bedroom."

"Yes, yes, of course," the agent said, turning to lead the way. "It's right through here."

"After you, honey," Green joked, motioning for Anna to go ahead.

She laughed. "Why, thank you, sweetheart," she said, walking past him and following the agent down the hall.

Green smirked as he trailed behind.

They came into the master bedroom, the large room dominated by a King-size bed. The matching nightstands and dresser were all in a dark Cherrywood. The room had a very masculine feel. The agent began to present the room's features when her phone buzzed.

"I'm so sorry, but I have to take this. I've got three closings going on today. It'll only take a second," she blubbed.

"Go ahead," Green said helpfully. The agent smiled and nodded gratefully, then went down the hall, speaking quickly on her phone.

"Tony will like this," Green noted, glancing around the room.

Anna walked around, taking in the entire space. It wasn't at all to her taste, but she could see how a man would appreciate it. She blinked in surprise as she came upon a large painting mounted on the opposite wall facing the bed. It depicted a naked woman chained to a rock, seemingly trapped at sea, with a foul-looking beast emerging from the water, snapping at her feet.

" _Andromeda_ , by Gustav Doré, 19th century," Green said, standing close behind her. "Do you know the story?"

"No," she replied, looking up at him in surprise.

"Her father was King Cepheus, whose country was being ravaged by storms," he recounted, looking at the painting. "In the end, he decided the only way to appease the gods was to sacrifice his eldest daughter to a hideous sea-monster. So they chained her naked to a rock…"

"Sheesh," she muttered, looking back at the painting. "Did the sea monster…get her, then?"

"Actually, no," he revealed. "Just when it seemed he was the only solution to her father's problems, she was rescued by Perseus, son of Zeus himself."

"Ah, so it has a happy ending," she remarked.

"In a way, yes," he agreed. "She ended up having nine children and ruled over a large Kingdom with her husband. It's an ancient myth, of course, so it's rather insulting to women."

"How do you mean?" she asked, frowning at him in confusion.

"Well, the whole 'beautiful damsel must be rescued by the handsome prince' trope," he said. "It was a very common tale, obviously, but I like to think it would have played better if she had ended up taming the sea-monster. Maybe he was misunderstood."

"Misunderstood? A sea-monster?" she repeated, laughing incredulously.

"Yes, sea-monsters can't be all bad, I imagine," he joked, smiling at her. "Maybe he just needed to find the right woman to set him straight."

She laughed and shook her head, turning and looking back at the painting. "Do you think Tony will want this taken down?"

He looked at the painting thoughtfully, then stepped over to the bed and sat down, looking towards her and the wall as he leaned back against the headboard.

"No, I think he'll quite like it, particularly from this vantage point," he said, smiling at her.

She glanced at him curiously, then looked from where he was sitting in bed to the painting and back again. Blinking, she averted her eyes and looked away, a nervous smile crossing her lips at his implication. He laughed and got up to rejoin her. "Right," she muttered.

"Well, I think this condo is the big winner," he noted as they walked back down the hall to find the agent. "With any luck, Tony will approve and I can fly out tonight."

"So soon?" she asked. "I set up a bit of a night out for tomorrow so you can meet some of the crew from the show."

"Oh, thanks, but that's not necessary, really," he said. "You've already done more than enough for me as it is. Besides, won't your husband be missing you if you're out all night?"

"He's out of the country on business, so it's not a bother," she replied.

"Well, Tony would want me to check out some restaurants and get an idea of what's in the area," he mused. "There's an art gallery around here, right?"

"About a half-hour walk," she confirmed. "It's quite good."

"All right, I'll talk to him this afternoon and try and convince him to let me stay for a few more days. I'll be glad for it, actually. The Gold Medal match in rugby is tonight and I would hate to miss it," he said.

"Ah, yes, it's GB against Fiji, right?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head. "I'm not too optimistic for our chances, actually. Fiji are a bunch of beasts. I'm surprised you know. Aren't you Canadian now?"

"I'm still English officially," she replied lightly. "Besides, I'll probably always cheer for the UK."

They found the agent out on the large balcony. After more apologies, Green got into a discussion with her about the amenities in the condo complex and the cost of utilities. Anna walked over to the railing and looked out on to the blue lake, the sun shimmering off the water. She closed her eyes and savoured the warm sun and the pleasant breeze. She thought that serving as tour guide and real estate agent to Mr. Green would be a chore, but she found she had actually enjoyed spending time with him today. It got her out into the city and visiting places she hadn't seen in quite a while.

"Anna? I think we're good here," Green called. "Can I interest you in a late lunch, or do you need to get back to work?"

She opened her eyes and came over to him, smiling and nodding her head. "I'm sure I can make time for a quick bite."

"Great," he said, stepping aside so she could go back into the condo ahead of him. He smiled as he followed closely behind her.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

"Damn, another try," Matthew said, shaking his head at the large television screen. "This is just getting embarrassing now. Fiji is unstoppable."

"Well, silver isn't so bad," Mary said, snuggling against his bare chest as they lounged on the couch. "It's Fiji's first ever Olympic medal. We shouldn't begrudge them that."

"No, no, of course not," he agreed. "And they're bloody good. They've been tossing the lads around all match."

Her phone rang and she picked it up from the side table, glancing at the call display and arching her eyebrow. "It's Aunt Rosamund."

"Go ahead and take it," he said, lifting his arm from her shoulders. "I should probably get dressed."

"Don't get too dressed," she teased, smirking as he got up from the couch and headed for the bedroom wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. "I'm not done with you yet."

He grinned slyly at her and went into the bedroom.

"Mary, hi! I wanted to catch you as I've been receiving a number of calls about you," Rosamund said crisply.

"That sounds intriguing," Mary replied with an arched eyebrow.

"It is, yes. Word's gotten out about what a great job you're doing on _Shattered_. The studio circulated some of the dailies amongst its executives and they're eager to line up another project for you," Rosamund revealed.

"Lovely," Mary said cheerfully. "Such as?"

"There's a few in the pipeline at the moment. What they want to know from me is whether you're going to commit to _Paladin_ beyond the next season. You're far more attractive if you are available more than a few months a year."

"Well, I do have a contract," Mary noted.

"For one more season. We haven't negotiated beyond that yet. Besides, now may be the time for you to get out," Rosamund said.

"Why? The show's only growing in popularity. I'm not looking to leave just yet, not if there's two or three more good seasons left," she said.

"That could change very quickly. There's rumours going around that Henry might be leaving after this season," Rosamund said.

"What? But why?" Mary asked in shock.

"He's in demand. If he wins the Emmy again, he's got no need to stay. He'll want to cash in on his popularity," Rosamund stated.

"If we lose Henry, the fans may not take well to that. They love him," Mary reasoned.

"Exactly. You're a pair. The whole reason the show is successful is because of the two of you. If he leaves, they'll need to take the show in a different direction. They dare not recast his role, the viewers would revolt. I don't know if I trust them to build a suitable story around you without the books to rely upon," Rosamund said.

"That is a worry, yes," Mary admitted, trying to wrap her head around all of it.

"I'll send you the scripts and you can look them over. The tentative schedules are attached to them, so you can see what projects might be options for you if you left the show after this season. There's a lot of good material here, Mary, some very strong roles that I think you would do well with. Give them a look."

"All right, I will. Thanks. Bye," she said, hanging up the call. She frowned and brought her hand to her mouth, looking to the window in thought.

"What did Rosamund want?" Matthew asked, coming back into the living room. He had put on a tank top and shorts, the muscles of his shoulders, arms, and legs on full display.

"Oh, just the usual. Work stuff," she replied, smiling as he sat down next to her. She snuggled against him as his arm came around her once more. "What's on next?"

"A whole lot of the swimming," he declared, looking up at the television.

"Ah, good," she said, watching the screen as a million thoughts raced through her head.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

"Yes! Gold!" Alex cheered, throwing his arms up in victory as he watched Canada win a gold medal in women's 100m freestyle swimming from his hotel room in Shanghai.

Anna smiled and shook her head at the television screen on their bedroom wall. She had her video conference with him on one-half and the Olympics on the other. They'd been watching together for the past hour as she lounged in bed, it being just past mid-morning over in China. Coordinating their calls had been a bit of a chore with the 12-hour time difference. It reminded her of when they were first dating and she would call him in Toronto before she went to bed. That was just a 5-hour time difference, though. To accommodate her this time, he had to move all of his meetings to late afternoon, which wasn't much of an inconvenience, but she was grateful for the effort all the same.

"Congratulations. Your first Gold. Now you're only thirty medals behind us," she needled him.

"Hey, don't ruin our moment," he said, looking at her pointedly. "We have low expectations in Canada. All we care about is that the athletes try their best."

She laughed and pointed the remote at the television, turning off the Olympics so she could use the entire display to talk to him. His face filled the screen, with a smaller box in the corner showing the camera trained upon her.

"How's it going over there?" she asked.

"Not bad. I've got three firm commitments, just need to sign the agreements later this week. That leaves five more investors to meet with and hopefully convince before I fly back," he said.

"Good. Don't come back here until they're all on board," she threatened. "We're going to have plenty more expenses someday soon and your commissions are important."

He laughed and shook his head. "How are you, love? You're good, right?"

She sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I am. I knew it probably wouldn't happen right away, but getting confirmation was just a bit sobering, is all. Anyway, I'm already ovulating again so we'll be on schedule for when you get home. That's good news, right?"

He nodded in understanding. "Well, look at it this way, now you can drink again until I get back."

"I already started," she said ruefully. "I had two glasses of wine with dinner."

"Tough day?" he asked.

"No, no, not at all. It was a good day, rather. I just needed a drink," she said.

"Well, tomorrow's Friday, and then it's the weekend, and I'll be back soon after," he said.

"I know. I can't wait," she said, smiling at him. "I've got that party tomorrow with some of the _Paladin_ crew and Alex Green, so that should be fun."

"All right, you can call me before you head out tomorrow night or whenever you get in. My meeting isn't until 4 in the afternoon," he said. "Good night, love. I miss you."

"Hang on, we're not done yet," she said, frowning and shaking her head.

He blinked in surprise. "Okay. It's almost midnight over there. You sure?"

"Very sure," she said, smiling at the screen. She lowered the duvet to her waist, revealing she was wearing a lacy black negligee.

"Oh," he blurted out, swallowing as he watched her.

"You know, babes, I bought this just in case I needed to entice you to bed. I was afraid that putting you on a schedule and doing it so often would be rough on you, so I wanted to give you a bit of a thrill," she revealed.

He shook his head in surprise. "Well, I think it's pretty obvious that I have no problem at all having sex on demand with my beautiful wife."

She laughed and nodded knowingly. "Indeed. God, you're a machine."

He laughed and grinned. "Nice. Every husband should be so lucky to hear a compliment like that."

"Well, how would my husband like to hear that his wife wants to have Skype sex with him right now?" she asked, smiling as she watched his eyes almost bulge out of his head. "Because I do, babes."

"Hey, you don't have to…to…perform for me," he mumbled, his cheeks warming.

She bit her lower lip as she swept the duvet away, showing off her bare legs. This was something so over-the-top, so bold, so unlike her, but she was a different person with Alex, far more confident and fearless. He didn't see her the way other people did. She wasn't quiet, and reserved, and shy with him. He never dissuaded her from speaking her mind, or berated her opinions, even when he disagreed with them. She knew she had his love and support through anything and everything, and this just made her all the more brave, brave enough to suggest what they were about to do, apparently.

"Fuck," he groaned, staring at her on his computer screen. "Love, you're so gorgeous."

"Babes?" she asked lightly, her fingers moving down and running along her breast, sending a shiver through her.

"Yeah?" he gasped in reply.

"Take it out," she ordered. "I want to see you."

He grunted, his face turning crimson before he stood up and obeyed.

 **Residence Inn Toronto Downtown, Downtown Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

Green sipped his vodka and Red Bull, looking out the window at the endless rows of office buildings and condo towers that stretched to the dark horizon. This city wasn't so bad, he decided. It was far better than Atlanta, where he'd been cooped up while Tony filmed _The Walking Dead_ , and not even too much worse than London. He expected he would enjoy spending the first half of 2017 here.

He smacked his lips as the smooth chill of the drink bit his throat. It was a genius move to come here early, rather than wait until Fall. Tony was right. Spending time with Anna had been most enjoyable. She was everything he thought she was when he met her in San Diego, and much more. Obviously hard working, disciplined, conscientious and smart, he could see why Lady Mary had never employed another PA besides her. She had the calm and patient temperament to put up with a woman as difficult and demanding as Lady Mary. If even half of the stories that Tony had told him about her were true, she must be a real handful.

He took another sip as his thoughts returned to the sexy, little blonde. A devilish smile crossed his lips. How fortuitous that Tony's strange obsession with Lady Mary and thoughts of revenge had brought him here. Getting close to Anna was one of the better assignments Green had been given in a while. She was sharp, but far too trusting, far too welcoming, one of those women who believed in the good of people. In this business, you could never let your guard down, even for a tall, charming fellow Brit asking for aid.

She had given him every piece of information he wanted, on both Lady Mary's schedule and plans for the future, as well as plenty on herself, as well. Her husband was away on business through the weekend. They were trying to have a baby, so she wasn't on any birth control. She'd set up a little soirée for him and some others for Friday night. He suspected he could have gotten her to tell him if she was a true blonde or not, too, if he'd wanted. He smiled in satisfaction. No need to ask. He would find out firsthand soon enough.

He went over to the desk and checked the duffel bag, going over the different vials and pouches to make sure all of his special supplies were well stocked. That was another thing about Toronto that he was pleasantly surprised by. Sources and dealers were ridiculously easy to find.

A devilish smile lit his face as he zipped up the duffel bag, locked it and stowed it away in a dresser drawer. With her husband away, Anna would be drinking tomorrow night, which would give him the opening he needed. He'd gallantly escort her from the party and she'd be naked and at his mercy soon after. If all went according to plan, he'd be able to report to Tony that she was captured for their side by the time he flew out on Sunday.

His arousal stirred again as he imagined her lithe body spread out on his bed, waiting to receive him. Women like her were always the most fun. Petite, flexible, he would bet money that she was nice and tight. Oh, he was going to enjoy breaking this one in, most definitely. He hoped she was a screamer. The quiet ones usually were.

The bathroom door opened and two blonde women came walking out, their tight fitting clubwear back on after the night's festivities. They gave him lazy, dazed smiles, and his eyes went up and down their bodies one last time, remembering all the things he'd made them do. He finished his drink and went over to them, giving them each a final kiss, spanking their asses as they giggled and put their heels back on.

"Do you got any more of that stuff?" one of them asked. "It was fucking good shit."

"Yeah, how about letting us have some for the road? We can pay you," her companion echoed, reaching over and grabbing him.

He laughed and slipped them each a small plastic packet. They both cheered and kissed him.

"Probably shouldn't hit those until tomorrow night," he said, taking on his Georgia accent again. "Y'all ain't gonna come down from the last one until the afternoon."

"Got it! Thanks, Steve! Call us if you want to party before you leave!" the one blonde said. With that, they both scampered out the door and down the hall to the elevators, giggling freely.

He locked the door and went back to bed, changing the sheets before he settled in. Closing his eyes, he smiled as his hand drifted down and played with himself, his thoughts full of the blonde hair and blue eyes of his unsuspecting prey.


	11. Chapter 11

**Previously:**

 **Residence Inn Toronto Downtown, Downtown Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

The bathroom door opened and two blonde women came walking out, giving him lazy, dazed smiles. He finished his drink and went over to them, giving them each a final kiss, spanking their asses as they giggled and put their heels back on.

"Do you got any more of that stuff?" one of them asked. "It was fucking good shit."

"Yeah, how about letting us have some for the road? We can pay you," her companion echoed, reaching over and grabbing him.

He laughed and slipped them each a small plastic packet. They both cheered and kissed him.

"Probably shouldn't hit those until tomorrow night," he said, taking on his Georgia accent again. "Y'all ain't gonna come down from the last one until the afternoon."

"Got it! Thanks, Steve! Call us if you want to party before you leave!" the one blonde said. With that, they both scampered out the door and down the hall to the elevators, giggling freely.

He locked the door and went back to bed, changing the sheets before he settled in. Closing his eyes, he smiled as his hand drifted down and played with himself, his thoughts full of the blonde hair and blue eyes of his unsuspecting prey.

 **Chapter 11:**

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, Friday, August 12, 2016**

"I need to talk to you," she said, her voice sounding crisp and sure, but her eyes looking nervous and worried. She tried to hold his suspicious stare, but she faltered and looked down at his chest instead.

"You need to talk to me," he repeated slowly. "Seems to me that you got out everything that needed to be said last time. You remember our last time, right? When you told me it was over between us? When you said you 'owed it' to yourself to make your marriage work? Talking about how I 'wasn't your kind of people'?"

She swallowed and frowned slightly. He wasn't going to make this easy. Of course, he wasn't. Why should he after what she did to him? "Things…have changed…since then."

"Things have changed?" he said with exaggerated surprise. "What? What's changed? No, no, let me guess…" He clapped his hands for emphasis, making her shake slightly. "He cheated on you again?"

She cringed and looked down at his feet.

"You caught him, didn't you? You caught him with her?" he sneered.

She turned her head and grimaced as though she'd been slapped. After a moment she nodded her head quickly.

"What'd you say?" he asked, leaning towards her. "Sorry, you'll have to speak up for us 'simple-minded' people to understand."

"Yes!" she said tightly, glaring at him now. "I caught him, is that what you want to hear? I caught him! I caught him fucking that bitch again! He said it was over! Promised that things would be different. It was all lies, more deception."

"And you came running over here," he noted, narrowing his eyes as he raised up to his full height, the higher step making him seem to tower over her. "To talk…"

She took a deep breath. "I…you were right."

"Is that what you wanted to talk about? You wanted to talk about how right I was about your asshole of a husband? Or, maybe you don't want to talk at all…" he said quietly, his voice razor sharp.

She blinked and looked up at him, pursing her lips anxiously.

"Maybe you're here because you want to forget," he continued. "Forget about your fucked up life and your fucked up marriage. Maybe you're here because you need to get…fucked up…"

She glanced around nervously, then looked back at him.

He raised his eyebrow and looked at her pointedly, waiting on her response.

Her brow crinkled for a moment, her eyes pleading with him not to make her say it out loud.

"Tell you what, Christina, I'm gonna make it real easy for ya," he said finally, crossing his arms over his chest. "You want something from me, then you step in here and get it. But, you come in here and it's no more games, no more playing around, no more pretending just to fill that dark need of yours, then take off back to your big, fancy house as if nothing happened. You step in here, and you play by my rules from now on."

She blinked in surprise at his ultimatum, her eyes looking past him to the darkness beyond.

"Or, you can head to the store, pick up some batteries, then go on home and see if that other boyfriend that you keep in your drawer can make you feel better," he taunted her, looking off into the distance casually.

She swallowed at his mocking turning to the side, giving her a path

He turned to the side, clearing space for her to pass inside, if she chose to.

She blinked and stared straight ahead. After a moment, she lowered her head and stepped into his house.

"Cut! Print that!" Thea called, and the crew applauded as Matthew stepped back to let Mary come out and walk down the steps of his "house". She brushed her hand across his forearm lightly, giving him a smirk before she headed off the soundstage to where Anna was waiting for her.

He grinned and walked off in the other direction, going over to the monitors to watch the playback. He smiled at what he saw. The camera angle did make him look rather tall and intimidating standing above Mary, their dialogue conveying plenty of emotion and tension. He was pleased with how he had delivered his lines, combining the jilted lover with just enough smugness to hint at the dangerous things he had planned for this woman. Over the course of filming, he had learned to appreciate how all of the four main characters were flawed in their own ways, each of them having an appeal, as well as a side that could be rather reprehensible. He could see the audience cheering for a certain couple over another, hating one character in one scene, then loving the same person later on. It was far more complex than a generic cheating story, and he liked that a lot.

Moreover, he was cautiously optimistic that he wouldn't be seen as just a minor character by the time the film debuted. He expected that not all of his scenes would make it into the final cut, but he wasn't just the forgettable piece of meat to advance Christina's affair storyline. Nico was a developed character of his own, and though he was just a supporting player, Matthew hoped he wouldn't be so easily forgotten either.

"Really great, Matthew, really great," Thea said, coming over and grabbing his arm. "I can see so much progress in your work, it's wonderful to witness how much you've grown these past few months."

"Thanks," he said, nodding sheepishly. He still hadn't really gotten used to Thea's praise. "You were right. It does look better when I'm standing up higher than her."

"Yeah, I know, right? It's like you're raised above her and she's coming to you, head bowed, begging for a favour, which is really what she's doing. It's going to contrast really well with the scene inside the house," she noted. "All right, go on and grab lunch. See you back in an hour."

Matthew nodded and gave a brief glance to the crew gathered around the monitor before he turned and headed off to his trailer. On his way over, he caught sight of Anna walking towards catering.

"That was well done, Matthew," she said pleasantly, rubbing his arm. "The two of you were in great form."

"Do you think so?" he asked with a smile. "It's almost as though I actually know what I'm doing, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't go that far," she joked, grinning at him. "Anyway, I'm just going to grab your lunch. Tuna on multigrain with mustard, cucumber, tomatoes and red onions, yeah?"

"Right. Thanks, Anna," he said, still finding it a bit awkward how she would go and get lunch for him and Mary sometimes. Yes, she was Mary's assistant, but she was also his best friend's wife, and a friend of his, as well. She didn't mind at all, being a complete professional, but trying to give her instructions, as though she was a servant, was something he couldn't bring himself to do.

"Oh, Anna, before I forget," he called before leaving her. "Why don't you come out for dinner with us tonight? Nothing fancy, but better than being stuck in that house by yourself."

"Thanks, Matthew, that's sweet, but I've got plans," she said kindly. "I'm meeting up with people from _Paladin_ for dinner and drinks."

"Oh," he exclaimed in surprise. "Mary didn't mention anything about that. She said we were just grabbing a bite and chilling tonight."

"Well, you and Mary aren't really invited," Anna said, smiling at him apologetically. "It's a staff thing, only. I'll let her explain it to you."

He smiled and nodded, not quite understanding, but letting it drop. "Fair enough. I'll see you in a bit."

Anna nodded and continued on to catering, while Matthew headed for Mary's trailer.

"Well, well, look who's here - the alpha male," Mary joked, smiling at Matthew from her desk as he came into the trailer.

"Ha ha," he laughed sarcastically, giving her a quick kiss before going over and sitting down on the bed.

"Play it off all you like, but you enjoyed it," she said, smirking at him before turning back to her tablet. "Standing tall while I cowered meekly at your feet, hoping for your approval, like some starry-eyed teenage girl with a hopeless crush."

"A hopeless crush. That's something no one could ever accuse the real you of," he retorted, leaning back on his hands and smiling at her knowingly.

"You should have more faith. Was I not 19 when we had our first proper kiss?" she remarked.

"You were, yes, but you were hardly hopeless, and you didn't have a crush on me, did you?" he replied easily.

"More than you think," she said playfully, smiling at him before looking back at her screen. "I'm surprised that Sybil hasn't shown you the rather sappy text messages that I sent her about you back then."

He blinked in shock. "What?"

She laughed and shook her head.

"Oh come on!" he whinged, leaning forward eagerly. "You can't just mention that and not give me details!"

"Calm down," she said patiently. "I may have confided in her the odd time about how cute I thought you were, and after we kissed, I may have gone into rather colourful detail on how I felt about it, is all."

He shook his head in disbelief and smiled widely. "Crikey."

"You're going to be insufferable now, aren't you?" she asked, smiling at his reaction.

"At least through the weekend," he agreed, nodding enthusiastically. "I didn't realize it was your childhood dream to be with me."

"Relax, it wasn't my childhood dream," she said. "That was Enrique Iglesias."

"Oh, come on, now. He's ancient," he grumbled. "And that mole? Really?"

They both laughed.

"I ran into Anna on the way over," he mentioned. "What's this _Paladin_ party tonight that we aren't invited to, apparently?"

"It's not a _Paladin_ party, at least not an official one. She's hosting Alexander Green, and she wanted to introduce him to some of the crew who are still in town. They're just going out for dinner and drinks," she said.

"Alexander Green…" he repeated, frowning in confusion.

"The PA for Tony," she reminded him.

His face darkened. "Oh, right, how could I forget?"

"Be nice," she chided him. "Anyway, it's not really a good idea for me to be there, so that's why we're not invited."

"Why not? You're part of _Paladin_ , probably the most important part. Shouldn't you want to catch up with everyone?" he asked.

She grinned at his compliment. "That's a very sweet thought, but no, it's all crew and staff. They don't want me there. It would be weird, like they were out drinking with the boss, or whatever."

"Huh?" he blurted out, still confused.

"We all get along, yes, and of course Anna is my best friend," she explained. "But there's still a clear division between our working roles. This is her chance to hang out with her people and complain about me and her work, and for them to do the same. It's not my place to be there."

"She has complaints about you?" he asked dumbly.

She laughed and shook her head. "Oh, darling, honestly. Yes, I'm sure there are things about working for me that she doesn't enjoy, just like any employee. I love her dearly and we'll be friends for life, but that doesn't mean that her job is all a bed of roses. Having an outlet like this is healthy to keep her motivated and maintain her relationships with the crew. The last thing I want is to try and be all lovey-dovey with everyone on the production. We all have jobs to do, and we all get along when we're working, but beyond that, there's no need to socialize. It's not a popularity contest. It's work."

He nodded slowly, beginning to see her point of view.

"So she'll be all right going out with these people?" he asked. "She's all alone with Alex away."

"Yes, she'll be fine," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "It's not like she's going out and picking up some stranger while her husband is out of the country. She's just having dinner and some drinks with her co-workers. She'll be in bed before midnight, I would guess."

"All right," he relented, still not sounding convinced. "I suppose Alex would know that she's going out."

"I'm sure he does," she said patiently. "If it makes you feel better, we're having brunch with Anna on Sunday so you can tell your best friend that you did your duty and looked after his wife while he was away."

He gave her a wry look just as there was a knock on the trailer door and Anna came in with their food.

"Ah, perfect timing," Mary said, looking at Matthew pointedly before smiling at Anna. "I'm famished."

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, Friday, August 12, 2016**

Anna unplugged her curling iron and set it aside, examining her blonde hair in the mirror of her bathroom vanity to make sure the loose curls had come out the way she wanted. She took a deep breath and reached for her white wine, taking a slow sip and sitting back in her chair, taking time to cool down a bit before doing her makeup.

Her hand moved down the neck of her silk robe, playing with the material idly. A part of her wanted to call off the night, say she was sick or give some other excuse. It wasn't that she wasn't up to seeing everyone. She was actually looking forward to it, but a small part of her just wanted to burrow under the covers and hide in bed, preferably until Alex returned early next week.

She had told herself not to get her expectations up. Alex had reminded her constantly that this was all part of the journey, and that every couple had different experiences. She knew, in her rational mind, that it was rare to be pregnant within the first month of trying, and many of her friends had taken months, even years, before they were with child. She had friends who had miscarried, changed their schedule, changed their diet, changed their positions, taken a break from trying and gotten pregnant right away, taken a break from trying and given up altogether. She even knew couples who had adopted, then gotten pregnant years later. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her, with Alex, with the two of them together. It would happen when it happened, and in the meanwhile, they ought to enjoy themselves.

Taking up a cool cloth, she wiped her face and neck, looking at herself in the mirror, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders and chest. Mum had gotten pregnant with her fresh out of high school, literally without even thinking about it. If not for Dad being an absolute deadbeat and leaving them when Anna was five, there would have been more children. Mum would often joke that she had gotten lucky by having her so early, implying that one child was more than enough.

Alex was an only child as well. His parents wanted more, but he had complications as a newborn that required surgery, and they were too scared to try again after that. Sometimes Anna envied Mary for having two sisters, despite all the times that she complained about them. She didn't think she suffered having grown up without a sibling, but she imagined it would have been so much more fun to have a brother or sister.

When she and Alex were engaged, they talked about children and agreed they would have three, two years between each if they didn't luck out and have twins, preferably two boys and a girl, and they would raise them here in Toronto, with annual trips at Christmas and in the summer back to London to visit Nanna Smith.

She tossed the cloth in the hamper and rubbed moisturizer into her face, using the time to wait for it to dry and set in to put out the rest of her makeup. Alex had told her over and over that she shouldn't feel any duty or responsibility to give their parents grandchildren. He had sworn up and down that he would be perfectly happy to live the rest of his life with her, and only her, and that if they were blessed with children, then so be it. There was absolutely nothing else she could have hoped for from him. He was supportive, always positive and optimistic, and didn't pressure her one bit beyond just keeping her aware of what it would mean if they put off starting a family for a while longer. If he came home next week and she told him she wanted to put off having children for another five years, she was certain that he would agree easily, take her to bed and make love to her until she was breathless and life would continue as usual.

That was why she was so desperate for this to happen as soon as possible. It wasn't just her general self-image of identifying herself as an overachiever. It was that Alex deserved it, for being such a wonderful husband and for the wonderful father she knew he would be. She just needed to do her part.

She did her eyes first, using eyeshadow and eyeliner to get the fuller, slightly smoky look she wanted. She then applied her foundation, a touch of blush, lip balm and lipstick. Turning her head, she was pleased with the final result, far more bright and glamorous than her usual look for work. She got up from the vanity and went over to her dressing room. Taking a calming breath as she looked around at her clothes, she gave herself a bit of a pep talk to lift her spirits. Life was good, very good. She had a handsome, loving husband. She had a fulfilling career. She owned this massive, lavish home and had made an incredible life for herself here in this new city and country. Children would come eventually, she was sure of it. It was Friday night, she was going out, and she was going to enjoy herself.

A smile finally came to her lips as she went over to her dresser and picked out a black strapless bra and matching panties. Taking down her blue halter cocktail dress from the rack, she went back out into the bathroom and set everything down near the full length mirror. Removing her robe, she eyed her naked body critically before she put on her underwear, the black silk soft and smooth against her skin, the bra raising her breasts enticingly. Putting on the dress, careful not to disturb her hair, she smoothed the material over her stomach, pleased with her look. They were going to one of those restaurants that was popular with the finance crowd, full of big drinking, big tipping men in suits, waitresses in their tight-fitting, revealing, little black dresses and the air charged with testosterone and money. While Anna didn't particularly care for that type of scene, in her current mood, she could use a bit of a self-esteem boost. It would be harmless to draw a few appraising glances, maybe even get a pick-up line, or two. With any luck, it would put her in a good mood for her call with Alex later, and with a few drinks in her, maybe she'd feel brave enough to give him a show to make their activities from last night's Skype call seem docile by comparison.

Tonight was supposed to be a little get-together to make Alex Green feel more comfortable around them and nothing more. Now, she was glad she had organized it. She needed a night out and this was a convenient opportunity.

"Ready or not, here I come," she said, picking up her wine glass and toasting to her reflection in the mirror. She drained the glass, then made her way out of the bathroom, carrying her high heels with her as she went downstairs.

 **Residence Inn Toronto Downtown, Downtown Toronto, Canada, Friday, August 12, 2016**

Green adjusted his cuff links and looked at himself in the mirror. He decided to forego a suit tonight in favour of a crisp white dress shirt with the collar open and unbuttoned, proper dark grey trousers and designer black shoes polished and shined like new. He didn't use any product in his hair, leaving it a bit messy. While his clothes looked rather ordinary, they fit him well, and that was far more important than whether he had a tie and jacket, or not. The weather was still swelteringly hot, and though the restaurant was properly air conditioned, it was likely to be quite full, and the last thing he wanted was to sweat during dinner and drinks with his new co-workers.

He put on his gold Eton College class ring, which matched his cuff links, and his silver Omega watch. These small accessories were what set him apart from most of the other men who would be in their group tonight, and put him in good position to compete against all the stockbrokers and lawyers who would be circling about. Of course, he was only focused on one particular prey this evening, but it wouldn't hurt to draw the attention of other women, as well. There would be the usual crowd of obnoxious drunkards in their expensive suits flashing their platinum cards and hoping that would be enough to score them some ass for the night. He already knew that bravado and outlandish spending wouldn't impress Anna. No, Ms. Smith would require an entirely different approach.

Satisfied with his appearance, he went into the bathroom and carefully looked over the different vials, pills and powders on the counter, keeping everything separated. Amateurs and idiots who believed whatever nonsense they read online thought that all it took to lower a woman's inhibitions was plenty of alcohol and maybe a recreational drug, or two. While that might work at random, there was just as much a chance that the woman would go off with some other man who just happened along at the right moment, or worse, pass out before anything happened. Add in the fact that he expected Anna most likely had never experimented with drugs, or at least hadn't for many years, and he would need to be careful about what he used on her, and how he did it. There was no point trying to give her any of the hard stuff at the restaurant. There were too many witnesses and if she had a bad reaction, then one of her co-workers would come to her aid. He had to be patient.

He smiled as he used a knife to transfer two specific powders into small plastic packets before putting them and a vial into his pocket. Anna fit the profile of a dutiful and faithful wife. She might enjoy flirting and receiving compliments, as most people did, but when put to the test, she would never betray her husband, at least not when she was thinking clearly. The challenge was in having her body respond and give in to him first, and with the proper influence, her mind would soon follow.

Green had seen her type before – quiet, shy, professional, proper. Some would look at her and say she was repressed, but he didn't think so. She wasn't boring, or stuck up. She smiled, laughed, had a decent sense of humour, and didn't seem to be a prude. He expected that her husband was banging her good and often. He certainly would be.

Having said that, it was possible that she was rather inexperienced, even naïve. How many boyfriends and lovers had she had before her husband? It could not have been many considering she married young. Lady Mary would not tolerate someone with a promiscuous background to work for her. Regardless, he was convinced that Anna had never truly experienced what it was like to be pursued, to be seduced, and most definitely, she had never been offered the chance to stray, never indulged her darker side. For her, anything forbidden was to be avoided, and her morals and inhibitions would ensure she never considered temptation. The key to making her his was to avoid putting her in a moral quandary – whether or not to cheat on her husband. Instead, he needed to take advantage of her drinking, the party atmosphere, and her playful mood to deepen their connection and get her to trust him. With her guard down, he could then use the drugs to make her feel euphoric and reckless, and once she was back here and under his spell, he could take his time in turning her into exactly what he wanted her to be.

He smirked at his reflection as his arousal flared at the thought of her naked on his bed, bent over, hands tied behind her back, her brain scrambled by alcohol and his special formula of cocaine and stimulants. She would feel as if she was being split in two when he finally got inside of her, the pain and pleasure would blend in her addled mind and turn her into an addicted slave, begging him for more, more drugs, more spankings, more of him, more of everything. He would keep her on the edge of insanity, her mind and body his to mould and shape and use as he wanted, until when he finally released her, she would be willing to do anything for him, and Tony could then move on with the next phase of his scheme.

He walked out into the living room and looked out the large windows. Sunset wouldn't be for another hour or so. He saw people scurrying about on the streets below, heading out to enjoy the evening or rushing home from work. He smiled in anticipation. This part of the evening, the calm before he put his plans into motion, was always thrilling for him. He took almost as much pleasure in the chase and capture of a woman as he did in the sweet torture that followed. Anna Smith would be one of his most memorable conquests.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, Friday, August 12, 2016**

Matthew sighed as he sat down on the couch and reached for the television remote. Mary was still getting ready for their evening out, and even though they were just going casual tonight, he knew she would be at least another half an hour doing her hair, makeup and clothes. He had learned years ago not to bother her during this process. Telling her that she didn't need to dress up for him because he already thought she was beautiful just the way she was, didn't work. She would think he was just being patronising or kissing up to her because he wanted some action later on. Telling her to hurry up and get moving wasn't even an option. She would only take longer on purpose to punish him.

He flipped through the channels idly, not finding anything he was too captivated with. The Olympics were in the early evening lull between the end of the afternoon competitions and the beginning of the primetime events in a few hours. Even though they were rather isolated on set, he did make a point of staying current on the news, both from back in England and here in Canada, so all of the news shows were just repeating stories that he had already heard. He would have settled on a sports highlights show, but Mary would have made some snide comment about that, so he resisted, eventually just muting the television and reaching for her tablet on the coffee table.

Moving his fingers over the screen, he opened the YouTube app, preferring to watch videos on the larger tablet screen than on his phone. Manchester United and the new manager, José Mourinho, had just won the Community Shield match the previous Sunday, and he loved watching the highlights and interviews over and over. This was the most excited that he'd been about the coming football season in years, even though his favourite team would not be competing in the Champions League. All the new players coming in, the larger-than-life personality of the new manager, and the fact they already started the season off with a trophy had him ridiculously excited, or, as Mary teased, he was setting himself up for massive disappointment.

The app opened up to a dark screen, showing that Mary had been watching a video at the time it was shut down. He minimized the video to get back to the home screen and blinked in surprise when he saw a playlist come up first. He was about to close that down as well when he read the titles of the videos and his mouth fell open.

 _Beauty and the Beast – Toronto Performance – February 20, 2016_

 _Suits Season 2, Episode 3_

 _CIBC Commercial – Penguins going on vacation_

 _The Turn of the Screw – BBC Movie – interview scene_

 _Priscilla Queen of the Desert - Palace Theatre - 2009_

 _M &M's – Cupboard (2010, UK)_

 _Merlin Series 2, Episode 5_

"What the…" he muttered, scrolling through the playlist. They were all clips of his various performances over the years. Some were fan videos taken from the audience at musicals he'd been a part of, others were screen captures from television episodes or movies that he'd had a small part in, and others still were rather embarrassing commercials he'd done when he was desperate and had to make some quick money. It wasn't a complete archive of his career, to be sure, thankfully, but it was still a decent collection of some of his work.

"Are you watching that bloody Community Shield match again?" Mary complained playfully, coming out into the living room and putting her earrings on. "You were just lucky, is all. You can't possibly think that they're actually looking good so far."

He looked up at her blankly, his mouth still hanging open.

"What?" she asked, smiling at him in amused surprise. "What is it?"

"I…I found this," he mumbled, turning the tablet towards her.

She glanced at the screen in confusion, then her eyes widened as she realized what he had discovered. She smiled and looked down at the floor, her cheeks flushing.

"Ah, well, I was just mucking about one night and came across those," she said quickly.

"You…" he struggled. "You looked up my…my work?"

She pursed her lips, then found his eyes. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and gave him a brave smile.

"I thought it was about time that I paid more attention to all that you've done," she explained, her voice soft. "You…you've always been supportive of me, even when you didn't think you were, and yet I've never bothered to take any real interest in your career. You were performing in a major musical not five minutes away from here and I never even went to see it once. If we're really going to make this work, then you deserve my support, and so I tried to catch up on whatever I could find."

He blinked and swallowed, still staring at her in absolute shock. "What…erm…so, what did you think?"

She fidgeted nervously with a phantom thread on her shorts as she looked back down at the floor. "I don't expect that watching a few of your clips will make up for ignoring your career for the past however many years, but I was impressed. Just from working with you these past few months…you're really talented, Matthew, honestly. I know I didn't pay it enough attention before, but I think you're great, truly."

He just sat there staring, a stupid smile filling his face. He shook his head to try and come out of his daze and didn't quite succeed. "Wow," he said eventually.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "God, between that scene we shot this morning and now this, you're going to be full of yourself for days now, aren't you?"

"No! No!" he protested.

She arched her eyebrow at him.

"Okay, well, maybe a little bit," he admitted, grinning at her. "It's just that you know how I think you're amazing, and for you to think I'm even halfway decent, well, it's just nice to hear, is all."

She laughed and came over, taking hold of his face and bending down to kiss him. His hands came up and slid over her hips and around to her arse. He hummed in delight as he kissed her more seriously.

"You are far more than just decent, I assure you. Now, let's go, please," she said, smiling down at him. "I'm hungry, and I'm going to need my strength for later based on the dirty thoughts that I can practically see running through your head."

He didn't even bother to say otherwise, laughing as he got up from the couch and took her hand, leading her over to the foyer to get their shoes before they went downstairs to take the subway to the restaurant.

 **The Deck Rooftop Patio, Cactus Club Café, First Canadian Place, Financial District, Downtown Toronto, Canada, Friday, August 12, 2016**

"So there I was, in rural Georgia, having somehow managed to find a pumpkin spice latte, with cinnamon, chocolate sprinkles and a chocolate wafer straw, and he takes one sip of it, cringes as if I gave him a cup of vinegar, or something, hands the mug back to me and says 'this isn't non-fat milk'."

Anna blinked, then grinned at him before laughing along with the rest of the table. Green smiled at her and shook his head, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

"I mean, honestly!" he continued. "Where in the bloody hell was I going to find non-fat milk in rural Georgia? He expected me to walk over to the next farm, milk the cow and separate the fat myself, I think!"

They all roared at the mental image of this tall, lanky, prim and proper Brit wandering the Georgia countryside like a lost puppy, holding Tony's coffee mug in one hand.

"Well, I can assure you there's a Starbucks or Tim Hortons on every corner of the city. Non-fat milk café lattes will not be a problem," Anna assured him.

"Then things are looking up, thank God," he replied, smiling and raising his beer to her.

She smiled back and took a sip of her vodka and soda. It felt cold and smooth going down her throat and gave her a delightful feeling in her chest. Dinner had been wonderful beneath the blue sky, and now that the sun had set, the warm air was comfortable. Popular dance music was playing on the speakers and the patio was alive with chatter and laughter, the vibe fun and flirty. Everyone here seemed to be rich, gorgeous and carefree, and she couldn't help but be swept up in the excitement of it all.

"Damn, where is that server?" one of the crew members asked, looking around the crowded space. "I've been waiting forever for my next drink."

"You know what? I need another beer. Let me go and tell her to bring us all another round," Green declared, finishing his beer and getting up from the table.

"And how will you manage that?" she asked, looking up at him in amusement. "We're supposed to wait for her to come to us, plus it's so crowded."

"I can be rather persuasive when I want to be," he said, smirking down at her. "Sometimes rules must be broken in the name of pleasure, my dear."

She watched him leave and head over to the bar, finding their server amongst the queue. He whispered to her and soon they were both smiling and laughing. The waitress nodded several times and Green turned away and came back to the table with a triumphant smile on his face.

"Well?" Anna asked. "Did you get her to hurry up with our next round?"

"No, she couldn't move any faster," he replied. "But she did give me her phone number. Apparently the staff like to go out after they close up around 2."

The boys at the table all laughed and cheered. Green held his hand up, smiling and nodding as he accepted their applause.

"Well, that was most helpful," Anna deadpanned.

"She's bringing our drinks right over," Green replied easily, leaning closer to her so she could hear him. "I explained that it would be in her best interest, financially, to keep us happy, since we've got a few stout lads here who look like they're going to be downing a fair amount tonight."

She smiled in surprise. "And the part about her giving you her phone number?"

"Oh, that part's true. She did," Green replied, taking a small piece of paper from his shirt pocket and handing it to Anna.

Anna unfolded it and shook her head. "Staci…yeah, she looks like a Staci. She dotted the 'i' with a heart. Aww, that's really sweet."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to call her, or any of the other women who gave me their phone numbers tonight," Green said easily. "You went to the trouble of setting all of this up for me, and you've been a brilliant hostess during my trip. I would be mad to get on your bad side. Tonight, I'm all yours, Anna."

She felt her cheeks warm just as he turned away and smiled at Staci arriving with another round of drinks for the table.

 **7 West Café, Downtown Toronto, Canada, Friday, August 12, 2016**

The table was tiny, tucked against the old wooden wall and slanted ceiling of the top floor of the restaurant. The lights were dim, a few candles on the table mainly, an eclectic mix of jazz and soul music filling the stuffy air. When Matthew had brought her here and escorted her up two flights of narrow stairs, only to arrive at this cramped table, she had questioned his choice of restaurant. However, after a surprisingly good bottle of Pinot Grigio from Italy, a delightful antipasto plate and light pasta primavera, she found the place to be quite cosy. Everyone seemed to be in their own world here, no one even giving them a second glance. He mentioned the place was open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and she could understand why now. This felt more like a gathering place than a restaurant, a tall, narrow house on a side street in a bustling area of downtown, a refuge for all kinds of people to take a break. Matthew fed her another tasty forkful of lemon meringue pie and she relaxed against him, sitting side-by-side on the bench, grateful that he had brought her here.

"So, not so aghast at this place now, are you?" he teased.

"Mmm, maybe not so much, no," she agreed. "How did you hear about this place?"

"From some locals. It's a bit of a hidden treasure," he explained. "I would come here late at night and just have coffee or tea and relax for a bit. Time seemed to stand still when I was here, or at least that's what I told myself."

She arched her eyebrow in understanding. "Did you ever come here after we were together…during our arrangement?"

He sighed and nodded. "Yes. I would come here sometimes and try to clear my head. It never really worked, but the subway ride would do me good."

She hummed in acknowledgment. "Was it really so horrible for you?"

"No, not really," he said honestly. "Being with you was incredible. I became quite addicted to it. It was the watching you leave at the end of each night that wasn't so fun."

"I know you won't believe me, but it wasn't easy for me to leave you each night, you know," she replied quietly. "I was just afraid that if I stayed, I'd never want to leave. You…being in your arms…it does things to me, back then and still today."

He smiled and chuckled. "None of that matters now. It happened, and now we're here. Maybe we wouldn't be if we had done things differently, so we should just be grateful and move forward."

She smiled. "I know what you mean…about when you talk about being addicted…I…it's very…powerful…"

He laughed and pulled her closer. "Extremely so."

She took hold of his hand and played with his fingers. Turning her head, she kissed his cheek, then snuggled against his neck. She expected that if any paparazzi or fan had found them up here, the photo would be quite grainy and blurred anyway, not that she cared at the moment.

"I want to know you're all right," she said. "With Tony joining the cast of _Paladin_ , that is."

"Would it matter if I wasn't?" he asked tiredly. "It isn't as though anything will change."

"It matters to me," she noted. "No, it won't change the fact that he'll be living in the city and doing scenes with me, but I want you to tell me if you're upset about it, about anything."

"I'm not upset about it," he objected weakly. "I'm not thrilled that your…admirer…is going to be so close to you, no. But that's next year anyway, and it's not as if it really matters. He'll be here, you'll do your scenes together, he'll drool all over you, and you'll leave at the end of the day, that's all."

"He may no longer…admire me…you know? That was so long ago. The flame may have died," she mused.

"I doubt it," he said ruefully. "The man never did know how to take rejection. Whatever happened to that girlfriend of his, the one he supposedly was willing to leave for you?"

"Mabel," she answered. "The last I heard they were still together, though not married. She actually auditioned for the role of Jade at the same time that I did. The producers tested her out the same week they came to see me, apparently. I heard about it from someone months later."

"Really? Wasn't she up for the same role in _My Fair Lady_ as you, as well?" he asked.

"She auditioned for Eliza, yes," she replied. "She didn't get it. She ended up being in the chorus, instead, and third or fourth understudy, or something. We were up for a number of jobs together, actually. You know how it is. British acting is a rather small world."

"Strange, but true," he noted.

"I just want to be sure that you know you have absolutely nothing to worry about when it comes to Henry, or Tony, or anyone else," she said firmly, sitting up and looking at him. "I'm with you. I love you. The others, it's just work, that's all."

He smiled and nodded. "I appreciate you saying it, though I can't promise that I won't be rather annoyed when either one of them rears their ugly heads again, starting with Henry when he comes in for your promo tour at the end of the month."

She smiled and reached up to caress his face. Arching her eyebrow, she kissed him deeply, her tongue sliding against his for several seconds before eventually pulling back.

"There, will that convince you of where my loyalties lie?" she asked, wiping a finger across his lips.

"Why don't we go back to yours and you can convince me again?" he said cheekily.

"Why don't we go back to mine and I can convince you in that outfit you bought me last week?" she shot back, pleased as his face lit up.

"It may be difficult to put on, with all the…ties…and such," he stammered.

"Well, I guess I'll just need to find someone to help me with that, won't I?" she said sultrily.

He nodded his head.

She leaned into him and kissed his cheek, her hand moving under the table and fondling him brazenly. "Are you volunteering to come to my aid?"

"Definitely," he choked out.

She laughed and kissed him quickly before standing up and easing her way around the numerous tables and over to the stairs.

He threw too much cash on the table and dashed after her, putting his hands on her waist and guiding her downstairs to the street.

 **Rented Home, The Annex, Toronto, Canada, Friday, August 12, 2016**

"Hey, love," Alex's warm voice came over her phone crystal clear. "How are you doing?"

"Good, good, babes," Anna replied, smiling in relief as she sat down on the bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms. "Just wanted to call you before it got too close to your meeting."

"The meeting's not for another three hours," he said in amusement. "Where are you? I thought we would be doing a video call."

"Yeah, I'm not home yet," she answered, swallowing to clear her dry throat. "After dinner and drinks, everyone decided to go back to Tommy's house in The Annex."

"Ah, for the after-party, eh?" he joked.

"Yeah," she said. "They're all downstairs. I came up here to get some privacy. The backyard's kind of small, and I think there's raccoons back there, or something"

"Sounds fun. And how is Mr. Green liking Toronto?" he asked.

"He likes it, yeah," she said, nodding and biting her lower lip. "He says he's had a great time all week. He's here through the weekend and flying out on Monday."

"Well, hopefully, he has all the answers that Tony's looking for and you've done your job and spared Mary from hanging out with the guy any longer than she has to," he said.

"Yeah, we'll see," she said. "Anyway, I better go. I won't be too much longer here."

"Well, you're off tomorrow so you can always sleep in. Enjoy yourself," he said encouragingly. "Love you."

She closed her eyes. "I love you too."

She waited until he hung up, then sighed and hung up her phone, putting it back into her purse.

"Everything good?"

She gasped and turned to see Green standing in the doorway holding two glasses.

"You made me jump," she said shakily, touching her chest.

"Sorry," he apologized, smiling as he came over to her. "I saw you slip upstairs and I figured you wanted some space to get away from the lads, so I made you a drink."

"Thanks," she said, reaching out and taking the glass from his hand. "It's nothing against any of them, really. I don't want to spoil their fun."

"I know, you don't have to explain," he said warmly, sitting down next to her. "They're a good bunch, I can tell, but not too educated on the effects of weed and shrooms on women trying to get pregnant."

She looked at him and blinked in surprise.

"I don't mean to get in your business," he said, raising his hands in front of him. "Maybe you just don't smoke, but it seemed that you didn't want to be down there when they brought out the drugs, so I thought I'd give you a bit of time, then come and make sure you're all right."

"Thanks," she said, nodding her head. "I can smell it from here, even. I'm probably almost high from just being in the house."

He smiled and nodded. "Have you ever smoked up before?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "Back in my teens. It was just something we did every few weekends if someone could score some. I haven't tried anything in ages."

"Right," he agreed. "It's been a while for me, too. I know it will sound lame, but Tony forbids it and even when he's not around, I can't bring myself to do it. For some reason, it just seems wrong. I keep thinking of how furious he'd be if I was caught with anything and it got back to him."

She nodded in understanding, balancing her untouched drink on her knee.

"I kind of miss it sometimes," he said sheepishly, laughing shakily. "It's sort of fun, right? When you're high, nothing matters, you feel as if everything you do is right, no stress, no pressure, no worries, just pure...joy."

"Yeah," she said, staring down at her drink. "It can feel great, until you crash."

"Well, at least we have safer alternatives, right?" he said raising his glass to her.

She smiled and lifted her glass, clinking it with his. "What's in this?"

"Oh, it's just vodka and sparkling water. He didn't have any tonic water or club soda. I did find a lime though so I was able to add a squeeze of that. I didn't think it tasted too bad when I tried it, so I made one for myself," he explained, taking a sip of his own drink.

"Ah," she said, nodding as she brought the glass to her lips. "Here's to being safe."

"To being safe," he repeated, watching closely as she took a long sip and swallowed, smacking her lips as the drink slid down her throat. "Don't worry, Anna. You're in good hands with me. I'll take care of you."

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, Friday, August 12, 2016**

Mary sipped her tea as she looked out the window at the office towers across the street. There was something sort of comforting in seeing most of the floors dark and empty this late in the evening, as if everyone who worked there had normal lives that they had gone back to, not to be seen again until Monday. Back in London, or even in New York, there would be people still working away, banking their billable hours, not caring that it was nearly two in the morning. It was nice to see that Toronto wasn't quite as bad as that yet. She liked to think that these unknown neighbours of hers all had families to spend time with, or hobbies to pursue, things that they enjoyed to take them away from the office, free them of stress and worry, if only for the weekend.

She took another sip, savouring the warm lemony flavour of her Chamomile. Ever since moving here, she had only been focused on work, on building up her career. Even when she did something supposedly fun like fan chats on social media or attending awards shows, her first priority was promoting herself, crafting every soundbite, smile, pose and glance to get herself noticed. Her diet, her exercise regimen, what she wore just to take a walk, they were all chosen carefully.

 _'Lady Mary Crawley out for a jog looking gorgeous in Lululemon!'_

 _'Click here for all the details on Mary Crawley's revealing interview on what she thinks of a gluten-free diet!'_

 _'Mary Crawley stuns on the red carpet in Prada…"_

She couldn't complain about any of it. Her profile had increased significantly since coming over from England. The media and fans didn't just see her as Jade from _Paladin_. She was known for her fashion choices, her lifestyle decisions, even her supposed relationship with Henry. She was a name now. She even made the top 100 of one of those deplorable men's magazines. It wasn't enough yet, but her career was tracking in the right direction, her hard work paying off.

The scripts that Aunt Rosamund had sent to her yesterday ran a broad spectrum of projects. She had glanced at them briefly, not having had time to look over them in detail, but they were certainly more meatier roles than she had received before. So many questions swirled in her head. Was it really the proper time to leave the show? Was it true that Henry was thinking of going himself? Why hadn't he mentioned anything to her? Was she ready to give up the security of a television series to do movies exclusively, or was it that she was looking for a new challenge?

She frowned, looking out to nowhere in particular. What were Matthew's plans?

She had seen the pile of scripts that Molesley had sent over. It was naïve to think that all of them were set to film in Toronto. There was a better chance that none of them would be filmed here, which meant he'd be leaving, moving to another city, perhaps for six months or longer. They had just gotten back together six weeks ago. _Shattered_ was due to end filming in September. She knew he had to work, had to build his career, but would he really just up and leave her so soon?

She rolled her eyes, silently chastising herself for being so sentimental. Up and leave her? She would pick up and move to another city in a heartbeat for the right role. Beyond being here next year for _Paladin_ , she had no firm ties to Toronto at all. Her career was paramount above all. He would have to just make do with video calls and visiting her whenever she said he could.

A sigh escaped her lips. That whole scenario didn't seem nearly as appealing as it had months ago.

"You left me," he whispered, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She shivered, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against him as he kissed her neck. His hands pulled at the tie of her robe, tugging it free, the silk parting and falling to her sides.

"Matthew," she gasped.

He took the tea cup from her hands and put it on the side table. Her hands reached back and found him naked and ready.

"Any reason why you came out here?" he asked lightly, his fingers trailing delightful lines up and down her body. "I thought you were too tired for anything else."

"You wore me out," she whispered, stroking him lazily. "I was just thinking."

"About?" he asked, nuzzling her neck.

"Something stupid," she replied airily.

"Then come back to bed," he said. "I can make you forget about whatever it was that caused you to wake up and make tea in the middle of the night."

"Promise?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

His one hand moved between her legs and pressed lightly, his other moved up to cup her breast. Just a teaser of what he could do to her, she knew, and it had its desired effect almost immediately.

"Whatever you're thinking of, we can deal with it tomorrow," he said confidently, kissing the spot beneath her ear. "Come back to bed and do that thing you said you would."

She turned her head and kissed him hungrily. "That thing with my mouth, or that other thing?"

"Surprise me," he said.

She threw her robe down to the floor, now as naked as he was. Taking his hands, she took him to the bedroom, pushing her worries to the back of her mind as she focused entirely on losing herself in him.

 **Rented Home, The Annex, Toronto, Canada, Friday, August 12, 2016**

Anna couldn't remember the last time she felt so wonderfully buzzed and carefree. She didn't think that she'd had that many drinks, but when she tried to count them, she couldn't seem to recall them all. After finishing her last vodka and soda, she and Green had a lovely conversation. He asked her all about what it was like to work on the _Paladin_ set, whether everyone really was as friendly as they seemed. She assured him that they were, then at his request, went on to name each one of the staff, as well as those he hadn't met yet, and explain what each of their roles was. Their conversation went on for ten or twenty minutes, she didn't know, and when she finished, she felt the buzz hit her delightfully. The coloured lights from the ceiling fixture seemed to glow, and she smiled and watched them dance. There seemed to be a pattern to the way they moved, but she couldn't quite figure it out, so she leaned back on her hands, then her elbows to get a better view. Green's voice faded away, and she finally fell down to her back, her hair splayed out around her, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes and a stupid sort of grin.

"Pretty," she said, giggling and sighing in wonder. She felt lightheaded, as though she were floating above the bed somehow, closer to the lights than the floor. She couldn't remember any of the constant worries and stresses that always lingered in the back of her mind. She barely could remember her own name. She just laid back on the soft bed and looked up at the blurry coloured lights and felt fantastic.

Green emerged from the bathroom when he heard her laugh. He grinned as he saw her lying down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, a familiar dazed expression on her face. Her chest was rising and falling with her quickened breathing, her arms and legs spread listlessly. He placed the two cleaned glasses on the dresser and walked over to the bed. The door was closed. Everyone was downstairs smoking up anyway. No one would come looking for them for quite a while. He had plenty of time to do what he wanted.

Taking out his phone, he snapped a few quick photos of her lying there, careful to mute the sound so she wouldn't hear anything except the music from downstairs. Coming to her side, he sat down near her head, careful not to block the lights overhead as he looked down at her face. Her eyes were open wide, the pupils dilated. Her mouth was open, her rapid breaths flowing in and out. He glanced down her body, past her cleavage and the hint of a lacy black bra beneath her dress. Smiling wickedly, he said a silent thanks to Tony as he sat back a bit. This woman was fucking hot, and she would soon be all his.

He swallowed and wet his lips, calming himself for the next steps. How he wanted to just unzip and use her mouth while he feasted between her legs, but he had to be careful. She was high, her mind scrambled from the alcohol and drugs, but she wasn't paralyzed or completely unaware. His careful measuring of the doses ensured that she still had some semblance of awareness. It was vital that she remembered the parts of the evening that he wanted her to, and that she remain conscious throughout, as well.

"Anna," he said softly, toning down his English accent. He had no idea what a typical Canadian accent sounded like, but he tried for a mix of Southern United States and Midwest. As long as it was generic enough, it would do.

"Mmm," she said dreamily, still looking up at the lights.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"So good," she replied, closing her eyes and smiling. "Really, really good."

"There's another party we should go to," he continued, his arousal straining against his trousers now. He was so close. "It'll be really fun. You'll love it."

"Mmm," she asked, her eyes still closed, a silly laugh leaving her mouth.

He reached out and took her hand, playing with her fingers. He knew he shouldn't risk it but he couldn't help himself. He had to touch her.

"Party," she said lightly, giggling again.

"A great party," he said, releasing her hand and watching her closely. Although she was high, her mind was still working to a degree. He had to be careful with what he said and how he said it. Her brain was quite compliant and susceptible, but if he said the wrong thing, she would become disoriented and confused, and he would have to start all over again.

"Mmm, so good!" she moaned, closing her eyes and gasping loudly. She began to writhe on the bed, her chest and hips swaying back and forth.

He frowned. She was experiencing the euphoria of the high faster than he expected. As captivating a sight as this was, he still needed to get her out of here and back to his hotel. She had to make it down the stairs and out the door still conscious, or her co-workers would intervene. If she was a bit clumsy and groggy, that could easily pass for drunkenness, but if she was obviously high, that would be another thing altogether. He reached out and took her hand again, massaging her fingers as he waited for her to come down just enough for him to make his move.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, Friday, August 12, 2016**

Matthew stared up at the ceiling, taking slow, deep breaths through his nose. His legs felt wonderfully loose and weak, the result of Mary's relentless and generous attentions. He didn't know what had bothered her so much to wake her earlier, but he was glad he was able to lure her back to bed. She was so driven in everything she did, and it was no easy task to have her let go of whatever was troubling her until the next morning, but he'd succeeded. No sooner was he back in bed that she leapt on him, forcing him to lie back and let her do as she pleased. He did, and she did, and they both did together, several times.

He turned his head slightly and looked at her sleeping form, her head on his chest, one arm draped across his stomach, one leg over his thighs. He hoped that she wasn't too sore from all they'd done. The feel of her against him would surely have him raring to go again in the morning.

If he ever managed to fall asleep, that is.

His eyes returned to the ceiling. The scripts that he'd been reviewing for days now were for projects on a much larger scale than he was used to. There were supporting roles in romantic comedies and ensemble parts in dramas, even a turn as a supporting villain in a sci-fi film. He almost didn't know where to begin. These were characters that were far more complex and high-profile than those he'd played before. If he managed to win any of them, his next project was going to be the biggest payday he'd ever had. Regardless, he was grabbing people's attention.

When he won his role in _Shattered_ , he didn't dare think of the future. It was more than enough to focus on doing his job and not embarrassing himself. He didn't have time or desire to wonder what was in store for him next. He tried to keep his thoughts in the present now still, but a part of him wondered if this wasn't the beginning of a new part of his life? Would he look back on this time as when his career changed forever? Was this the start of a period of time where he would be constantly busy, have his pick of rewarding roles and challenging projects? Had he now arrived?

He glanced down at Mary again. He tried not to think of their future either. They hadn't been back together for two months yet, and he wanted to enjoy each moment without comparing it to their past, or trying to ponder what it meant moving forward. A part of him couldn't help but acknowledge that they were in a very good place right now, but it was the result of living in the same city and working on the same movie. They saw each other every day, took all of their meals together, slept together each night. There was a risk that they would grow tired or bored of each other with so much constant contact, but he hadn't sensed Mary feeling that way. He supposed that things were very neat for her now, for both of them, really. She had her career moving from strength to strength, a new relationship that was on her terms and at her pace, and the summer weather was remarkably balmy and bright. He was happy that their lives were so in synch at the moment.

But how long would that last?

He frowned as the questions came, despite his reluctance to consider them. Filming would be wrapping next month. He would likely have more auditions by then to see about his next job. The prospect was exciting, and yet, what would happen if he was to go off somewhere else to film? What if his next job didn't bring him back to Toronto either, or even the one after that? Mary would likely pick up something to film over the fall, or go back to Downton to spend time with Violet and her family. She was due back in February to start the next season of _Paladin_ , and between now and then there were awards shows and promotional tours all over North America. They hadn't spoken about whether he would be going to the Emmys with her or not. She would have to walk the red carpet with Henry again, of course. While nominations for the other awards hadn't been announced yet, there was a good chance that Mary would be going to those as well. While he didn't particularly much care for the awards shows, it was fun to dress up and go to the parties. Besides, if he was going to really make a go of his career, he should be increasing his visibility, getting out there and mingling with the power brokers the way that Mary did.

He closed his eyes, a light sigh escaping his lips. There was so much more to consider than just being a good actor. There were so many more factors to weigh than just loving Mary and being a supportive boyfriend. He ran his hand along her bare back and turned his head towards her, feeling her soft body against him and putting off his concerns for a while longer.

 **Rented Home, The Annex, Toronto, Canada, Friday, August 12, 2016**

Green watched as Anna stopped shaking, her jubilant open-mouthed smile calming into a lazy smirk. Her eyes were still wide and vacant, staring up at the lights on the ceiling. He stole another leer at her body, so trim and fit, the dress she chose for tonight showing off all of her best assets. It would be so easy to tear her halter-style neck and the lacy bra beneath, so simple to lift her dress and rip her panties off. His pulse jumped as the alcohol and his own twisted fantasies coursed through his veins. He always had a thing for blondes, he thought darkly, as he rubbed himself through his trousers. He could almost hear her moans of pleasure. She would never have had anyone as big as him, he expected, but she would get used to it. Oh, how he would teach her to love every painful inch.

He shook his head and took a deep breath to calm himself. No. Not here. Her one spiked drink wasn't nearly enough, he reminded himself, no matter how aroused and vulnerable she appeared. Her deeper defences, the parts of her brain that would alert her to something going wrong, were still active and functioning. He needed to get her back to his hotel, tie her up and get the needles into her. She would experience highs like she had never imagined once the drugs got into her system, and at the exact moment where addiction was about to set in, he would fuck her then, over and over, and all the delirious ecstasy she felt would be forever tied to him. No matter how much guilt, regret, anger or horror she felt afterwards, she would do anything for just another hit, just another taste, just another trip. In time, he would demand things of her in return, and Lady Mary's personal assistant, her confidante and best friend, would be bound to him and Tony.

"Anna," he said softly, reaching down and caressing her cheek. "That other party, remember? You wanted me to take you?"

"Mmm," she hummed, closing her eyes. "Party, yeah."

"Let's go," he said, smiling triumphantly. "You're going to love it."

He slowly eased her up to a sitting position, careful to take his time. If she moved too quickly, she could get dizzy or have her legs give out, and that would shatter the compliant trance he'd gotten her into. He sat next to her on the bed and put his arm around her bare shoulders. Her head lolled to the side, leaning into him. Her hand fell limply across his thigh, her fingers so close to his arousal. He grit his teeth and willed himself to relax. Just her touch was enough to make him forget about his careful plan and just nail her right now.

After several minutes, he got her to her feet. She swayed a bit, but she was more or less upright. He eased her towards the door, opening it and getting her out into the hallway. Her feet dragged sluggishly, but she wasn't yet numb or paralyzed. The short distance down the stairs, out the door and through to the pavement was all he needed to cross. There were cabs all over this neighbourhood. Once he got her into a car, she would slump against him again and she'd be his. He could carry her into his hotel without anyone caring or even noticing. It was Friday night. Downtown was full of drunken revellers. Besides, once he was done with her, she would never think of tonight as anything but consensual.

He swallowed as he got her to the stairs. Gingerly taking the first step, he matched her awkward and clumsy pace as her body reflexively took each one. The staircase of the old house was narrow, but he managed, and soon they were in the foyer. He helped her slide into one shoe, then the other. He thought she might teeter a bit in her high heels, but that no longer mattered as he reached for the door. Pulling it open, the warm air seemed to smell of victory as he helped Anna out of the house to the front porch. Once they were in a taxi, he could send a text from her phone to thank everyone and say she was seeing him back to his hotel.

A shot of desire flared between his legs as he closed the door behind them. Now for the real fun to begin...

"Anna! There you are!" a voice called cheerfully.

He frowned, then plastered a smile to his face as he looked up at the cute redhead that he had met earlier in the evening- Gwen something-or-other. She bounded up the front steps towards them, a red plastic cup in one hand, a cigarette in her other.

"Hey Gwen," he said casually. "Great party."

"Thanks," Gwen replied, smiling back at him. "I needed a bit of a break! I was just out here getting some air when Anna's driver pulled up. Took me a while to figure out what he wanted!"

He blinked, looking past her to the saloon car waiting at the kerb.

"Yeah, her driver, right," he managed.

"She arranged for her car service to come pick her up. Typical Anna for you. She drinks like a fish, but she can't last as long as she used to," Gwen said laughing as she stepped over and patted Anna on the shoulder.

"Mmm, Gwen," Anna chirped, smiling and giggling at her.

"All right, Mrs. Lewis, looks like you've about had it. Come on, then," Gwen said, taking Anna's arm and putting it around her shoulders. "Let's get you to the car."

"Don't worry about it, Gwen. I'll see that she gets home. I'm about done, myself," he suggested, his mind working to take advantage of the situation. If the driver had strict instructions to take Anna home, maybe he could convince him that there was another party she wanted to go to first and redirect the car to take them to his hotel.

"Oh, it's fine, Alex, really," Gwen said, pushing her drink into his chest. "You stay. We're supposed to be hosting you after all! Anna would want us to show you a good time. I've gotten her home before when her husband's not around. I'll just go and get her tucked in and come right back."

He could only stare as she took one last drag on her joint and passed it to him as well. He took it and her drink, reluctantly releasing Anna to her in exchange.

"Come on, hon," Gwen said, her arm going around Anna's waist and guiding her down the path to the pavement. "Time to go home to that huge mansion of yours."

"Home, home!" Anna sang, walking towards the car.

He glared furiously at the pair of them as they reached the car and the driver helped them into the back seat. Once the saloon car pulled away from the kerb and disappeared down the street, he launched the plastic cup on to the porch in disgust, threw the joint down and stomped on it with his foot. Sneering as he stood alone outside the house, he clenched his hands into fists, his wild eyes whirring about, briefly pondering taking out his rage on the flimsy looking patio furniture.

Eventually, he took a deep breath and went back inside. He was welcomed into the living room by the remaining crew members, and he took a seat and accepted a beer, forcing himself to make conversation as he continued to seethe on the inside.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, Friday, August 12, 2016**

Anna wandered out of the bathroom and over to the bed, almost stumbling a few times but eventually making it. She had to grab hold of the bedpost and lean against it until the room stopped spinning, but eventually, she was able to ease herself into bed. Though she couldn't remember exactly what she'd done earlier in the evening, she had probably drunk a fair bit of water in advance of going out, trying to plan for the inevitable dehydration that came with a night of booze. At least, she hoped she had.

She turned over on to her back and closed her eyes, her hand going up to cover her forehead. A merry laugh flew from her mouth as she was still lightheaded and buzzed. Usually, she didn't feel it this much once she got home, and she vaguely remembered Gwen helping her get in the house, upstairs to her bedroom and out of her dress. Once Gwen left, Anna had to head straight back to the bathroom, but now she was feeling much better, like flying, almost.

Truly, she felt amazing. Her pulse was racing delightfully and when she opened her eyes, the room seemed to be a fuzzy mass of vibrant colours and shapes. She tried to blink several times to focus her vision, and when it didn't seem to work, she just let loose a fit of giggles and tried all over again.

She reached out her hands to either side of her and fumbled around, finally finding her mobile on the nightstand. Bringing it up to her face, the bright light of the screen made her wince, but she eventually stared at it long enough to make out some semblance of the familiar display. She swiped her finger clumsily over it, laughing and swearing in equal measure as she kept missing the camera app and opening a game or the music player instead. Finally, she managed to open the camera and fumble with the settings until her own dazed face was staring back at her.

"Mmm, enjoy, babes," she drawled, moving her fingers over the screen before finally tossing the phone to the side. She curled up and closed her eyes. For another hour, she continued to chuckle, moan, sigh and smack her lips on and off before eventually drifting off to sleep.

 **Bank of Shanghai Headquarters, Jiading District, Shanghai, China, Saturday, August 13, 2016**

Alex bowed his head respectfully and shook hands with all of the men gathered around the boardroom table. The lawyers and their assistants packed up the tablets and papers, and the investors all left the room with their staff trailing behind. Giving instructions to his team, Alex was eventually left alone. He went over to the large window and looked out to the old bank buildings across the street. Unlike the gleaming skyscrapers and towers of the more modern parts of Shanghai, this old suburb was more traditional and old world. The gleaming Formula 1 race track and some luxury hotels had sprung up recently, but it was known more for its Confucian temple and these older palatial bank buildings. It was rather appropriate to do some business here, Alex thought. The symbolism, of old China accepting a partnership with the modern film industry of the West, appealed to him.

He smiled as he sipped his tea. The trip had been a success, and with two more meetings scheduled for the weekend, he could be returning home next week with another record haul to announce to his firm. He hated being away from Anna for any length of time, but if the deals he had brokered here worked out as he hoped, he might not have to take another business trip for quite a while. He rather liked that idea – the two of them living and working in Toronto like a normal couple, not having to drop everything to fly across the world to please their respective clients. Though he considered Mary a good friend, he still resented her for demanding so much of Anna, more so because he knew that his wife would never hesitate to fly off to California, or back to England, or wherever else if her employer ordered her to.

He sighed in satisfaction as he looked over to the river in the distance. Negotiating and closing deals was thrilling, to be sure, and he did enjoy his job immensely at times like these, but he had a life separate and apart from being a financier, and more and more he was wondering if being a husband and father wasn't what suited him better.

He shook his head in amusement. No, better not think that way. If he even brought up the idea of early retirement or taking some time off, both Anna and Mrs. Chen would slap him silly.

Eventually, he left the building, sharing congratulatory handshakes with his team. His driver brought him back to his hotel. As the long day caught up with him, he got out of his suit and sank into a bubble bath, leaning his head back on the edge of the tub and closing his eyes. There were offers to go out to a restaurant or club tonight to celebrate the latest deal, but he wasn't interested. Anna would be awake by noon, which was midnight Shanghai time. His mind as still reeling from what they'd done over Skype the night before. He would never ask her to do that for him again, but he was hoping she might be in the mood.

His phone buzzed and he reluctantly got out of the tub, walking over to the counter to pick it up. Business deals evolved all the time and the Chinese liked to work at all hours, in his experience. There was no such thing as shutting your phone off when he was over here. He smiled as he saw the notification pop up on his screen showing he had numerous text messages from his wife. Of course, she wouldn't call him, not wanting to risk interrupting his meeting, and she was probably asleep anyway by now. It was just past 5 a.m. back home.

Pressing his thumb to the screen, he brought up his inbox and opened the first text. He almost dropped his phone in the sink when he read it.

Anna had sent him a series of photographs, and he opened each one with growing interest as he went through them. The first few were a bit blurry, and the lighting was a bit off. She was clearly lying in their bed, and while she started off wearing her robe, by the time he got a few photos in, she wasn't wearing anything at all.

She must have been drunk when she took these, he thought, but he wasn't complaining. Towelling himself off quickly, he took his phone to bed, looking forward to their next call.


	12. Chapter 12

**Previously:**

His phone buzzed and he reluctantly got out of the tub, walking over to the counter to pick it up. Business deals evolved all the time and the Chinese liked to work at all hours, in his experience. There was no such thing as shutting your phone off when he was over here. He smiled as he saw the notification pop up on his screen showing he had numerous text messages from his wife. Of course she wouldn't call him, not wanting to risk interrupting his meeting, and she was probably asleep anyway by now. It was just past 5 a.m. back home.

Pressing his thumb to the screen, he brought up his inbox and opened the first text. He almost dropped his phone in the sink when he read it.

Anna had sent him a series of photographs, and he opened each one with growing interest as he went through them. The first few were a bit blurry, and the lighting was a bit off. She was clearly lying in their bed, and while she started off wearing her robe, by the time he got a few photos in, she wasn't wearing anything at all.

She must have been drunk when she took these, he thought, but he wasn't complaining. Towelling himself off quickly, he took his phone to bed, looking forward to their next call.

 **Chapter 12:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

Anna stirred her tea, then took a long sip, carrying the cup and saucer from the kitchen into the living room and sitting down on the sofa. It was a gorgeous day outside. The mid-morning sun was already glittering on the blue water of the pool. She had nothing planned for today, having cleared her schedule for the weekend, except for brunch tomorrow with Mary and Matthew. There was a list of chores that didn't necessarily need to be done today. She could go to the market, or the flower shops to see what was fresh. A smile crossed her lips as the wide-open potential of a day with no appointments or commitments lay before her.

She reached for her phone, her cheeks warming as she read over her text messages again. It was nearly 11 at night in Shanghai now and Alex would be getting ready for bed, most likely. He was most certainly expecting her to call, and she had to brace herself beforehand.

Last night was a blur, and she couldn't remember most of it. It felt like a dream that seemed so vivid and intense at the time, but now in the morning after, had faded beyond her memory. She knew she'd gone out drinking with Alex Green and the crew from _Paladin_. She knew they'd gone to Cactus Club and had a fun dinner, plenty of alcohol and lots of laughs and good times. Green was fitting in with them well and didn't seem put off by some of the off-colour humour and gregarious ways of the crew. They all went back to Tommy's afterward, where the lads put some music on and smoked weed and shrooms. She'd begged off, not wanting to partake in any of that. She went upstairs to call Alex. At some point, Green had come upstairs to keep her company, but she didn't remember anything after that.

She'd gotten drunk, that was for certain. Most likely, she was already tipsy at dinner, and she must have had more drinks at Tommy's, requiring Gwen to bring her home. Her call log on her phone showed that she'd spoken to Alex around 2 a.m. and that she'd arranged in advance for her car service to come pick her up at 3.

"God, I hope I didn't embarrass myself in front of him," she muttered.

Taking a deep breath, she turned on the television and opened the Skype app so she could video chat with Alex on the large widescreen. Best to get this over with, she thought. She shook her head in disbelief, still in shock that she'd sent him those naked photos of her in bed last night. Though teasing her husband like that wasn't wrong at all, she was worried about what else she may have done in her drunken state. Thankfully, it seemed that sexting with her husband was the worst of it.

"Hey, love," Alex said warmly, his smiling face filling the screen. He was lying in bed in his hotel, his bare shoulders and chest visible as he looked at her smiling face on his Ultrabook screen. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling in embarrassment. "I'm fine. I'm actually not hungover at all, surprisingly. I must have had some Red Bull, or something because I feel super energetic."

He laughed and shook his head. "Good. At least you're not going to be sleeping in all day."

"No, I'm going to head to the market, I think, maybe get some flowers for the house," she said. "How was your day?"

"Really good, actually," he replied. "Bank of Shanghai signed on, so I've got a few more meetings over the weekend but I'm already coming back with more commitments than we expected. So the trip is now officially a success."

"Nice, babes," she said cheerfully. "Good job."

"Does that mean I get a congratulations present?" he asked, quirking his eyebrows suggestively.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I think I've already given you enough presents lately, haven't I?"

He laughed and nodded. "You've been generous beyond my wildest dreams, yes."

"God," she groaned, chuckling as she covered her face with her hand. "See what happens when you're not here? I get into all sorts of trouble."

"I've got no complaints," he joked. "I should go away more often."

"Don't you dare. I can't believe I did that," she said firmly, looking at him pointedly. "It must be all my raging hormones from being off birth control or something. I want you to delete those pictures. You use that phone for work. That's just what I need – Mrs. Chen or one of the partners discovering what a bloody harlot your wife is."

"First of all, you're not a harlot for trying to seduce your own husband," he said, frowning at her. "Second, this isn't Victorian England, so 'harlot' isn't even a real word."

"In any event," she replied impatiently. "Make sure nobody sees those pictures."

"They are saved for my personal use only," he said, smirking at her.

She smiled ruefully. "I bet you've got them up as your new wallpaper, don't you?"

"No, I'm using a screenshot from our Skype call the other night for that," he said.

She glared at him, though he just smiled cheekily.

"Come on, love. There's no need to be embarrassed. You're fucking hot, and I love you, and I loved the photos, really," he said earnestly.

"Thank you," she said wryly. "However I would much rather do it with you in person. What if your phone gets hacked?"

"Then some hacker will see what a lucky husband I am," he said confidently.

She laughed and shook her head. "Of course you see absolutely nothing wrong with any of this."

"I'm sorry, love, but if you're expecting me to say that I don't like it when my wife sends me naked photos of herself, well, I'm going to have to lie," he said.

"Well, there will be none of that anymore," she declared. "Better that you have to go a few days without. It'll make you want me more when you get home."

"I don't see how that's even possible," he said. "But yeah, that's fine. I've got enough to tide me over."

She scoffed and shook her head.

"By the way," he said casually. "That whole 'twice-a-day' suggestion of your mum's? When would that be? Once around noon and again at night?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask," she answered, smirking at him. "But I suppose that's one possibility."

"So, for example, if I was home with you now, then we'd be approaching the time for the first session, right?" he suggested.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Yes, technically that is true, I suppose."

"I see," he said, grinning widely.

"Babes, I'm in the living room. The windows are all wide open," she said.

"So go to the bedroom, then," he said easily. "Or, close the blinds that you had me spend so much money on."

"All right, but this is the absolute last time until you get home," she stated, smiling as she reached for the remote to close the blinds.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

"Darling, you really shouldn't be angry with Tom. If he can't come up, then he can't come up," Mary said easily, scribbling her signature on another glossy photograph, then setting it aside before taking another one from the neat stack on the table and signing it. She repeated the process again, a mounting pile of autographed photos of her and Henry littering what was supposed to be the dining table.

"I gave him nearly three months' notice!" Sybil complained, her voice even sounding whingey over the speakerphone. "When we were back at Downton, I told him 'I want to go up to Toronto in late September to see Mary and Matthew'. He agreed and everything!"

"It's already a lucky stroke that he's allowed to stay in New York," Mary noted. "If he was embedded with one of the campaigns, he'd be traveling to Iowa, and Delaware, and wherever, and you wouldn't even see him now."

"I know," Sybil sighed wearily. "I just would like some assurance that it won't be November before I have some quality time with my husband again."

Mary smiled and shook her head. "I'm certain he can't go without you for that long. Now, I've got to run. Send us your itinerary when it's final, yes?"

"Will do. Love you, and love to Matthew," Sybil said.

"Love you, Syb," Matthew called as he came into the living room, rubbing his eyes to wake himself.

"Love you, Matthew! Bye!" Sybil called.

"Bye," Mary said, hanging up the call and pausing to look up as her sleepy boyfriend shuffled over to her.

"Well, glad to see you woke up before noon," she teased, arching her eyebrow at him.

"You didn't bother to wake me up," he retorted, kissing the top of her head and massaging her shoulders. He glanced at the dining table. "What's all this?"

"New promotional shots from the network," she replied, returning to her signing. "They're rolling out the next phase of the marketing materials - new trailers, posters, all of that. These will be included with some of the special edition Season 3 Blu-Rays and given away at watch parties for the Season 4 premiere in a few months."

Matthew reached over and picked up one of the photos. It was a headshot of Mary and Henry, both of them glaring sternly at the camera. Mary was wearing a tank top, her alabaster skin bared and on full display but for two thin black straps over her shoulders. The only real colour in the photo was her blood-red lipstick and the green sparkles around one eye that were her character's trademark. Henry had a bit of stubble, his face pressed close to Mary's, his green eyes narrowed in what was supposed to be a menacing gaze.

"How nice," he said, tossing it back down on the table. "Tea?"

"I've got mine, thanks," she said, not looking up as she kept signing away.

Matthew went over to the kitchen and made himself a cup of Earl Grey. Leaning over the granite countertop, he frowned as he added milk and sugar and stirred the tea slowly.

 **Residence Inn Toronto Downtown, Downtown Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

"It couldn't be helped," Green said tightly, frowning at his reflection in the mirror as he spoke into his headset. "I tried to get into the car with her, but that stupid friend of hers said it wasn't necessary, the bitch. I gave her the first dose and it worked perfectly. I had her. If not for that driver showing up..."

"I don't need your excuses, Mr. Green," Tony said, his voice sharp and heavy in his ear. "I gave you one task. You failed. I'm beginning to wonder whether you are as reliable as you keep telling me you are."

Green grimaced, a string of curses on the tip of his tongue, which he stifled with great effort. "She won't remember anything. I still have the advantage. The next time I'm here, I'll arrange for us to go out in the afternoon, just the two of us. It'll be easier, that way. I can-"

"No, you will not do anything," Tony interrupted him. "Leave her be. You had your chance and you failed. Never revisit the same target twice. It's bad luck and foolish thinking."

"I have other methods," Green said.

"No need to disclose them," Tony warned. "Call me when you land."

"Yes, sir," Green said, hanging up the call and throwing his headset on to the dresser in disgust.

He shook his head and turned away from the mirror, going over to the bed to check his luggage. He was here for another night, but getting Anna to come out for a drink would be almost impossible now. Really, he had no reason to call upon her, especially to suggest they head out alone.

He glanced over in confusion as he heard his phone ringing. Going back to the dresser, his frown turned into a smug grin as he saw the call display and returned his headset to his ear.

"Hello?" he said casually.

"Alex? Hi, it's Anna," Anna said warmly.

"Anna! Hi. You all right?" he asked smiling at his reflection in the mirror.

"Yeah, I am, thanks," she said, laughing nervously. "I just wanted to apologize for leaving you on your own last night. I did plan to go home, but I didn't plan to be in such a…well…state…"

"No worries, though you were quite the sight, I must say," he said, laughing lightly.

"Oh God, don't tell me. I can't even remember anything that happened after we got to Tommy's and I'm almost afraid to find out," she said, laughing ruefully.

"Oh, it wasn't anything really that bad, honestly," he assured her, swiping his fingers across his phone screen and bringing up one of the photos he had taken of her lying in bed after she drank the spiked drink. "I would have seen you home myself, but Gwen seemed to have it all in hand, and I didn't want to seem rude by leaving so abruptly. I had a good time, actually. It was another hour, or so before I left. You seem to have a good bunch of people here."

"Well, thanks for being so understanding. I promise that next time I won't abandon you like that," she said.

"Sounds good. I'm due back here in October to settle my own apartment, though I must warn you, it won't be nearly as lavish as Tony's," he advised.

"Oh, that's fine. I've seen all kinds of places in the city. We'll make sure we find you a proper spot to call home," she said.

"Good. That's a relief," he said. "I'll email you before I come in. Thanks for taking care of me during my visit, Anna. I would have been lost without you. Have a great weekend."

"Same to you, and safe flight back," she said before hanging up.

He took off his headset and smiled, nodding to his image in the mirror.

"Still not finished, yet," he said confidently.

 **Home of Tony Foyle, Kensington, London, England, August 2016**

Tony hung up the phone and put it down on the desk, shaking his head in frustration. He turned and went over to the bar and poured himself a drink, taking a long sip as he looked out the window at the dark evening sky.

"Who were you speaking to in such an annoyed tone?" Mabel asked as she came into the room. "I could hear you all the way in the living room."

"That was Mr. Green, calling from Toronto," he said. "He was telling me all about the flat he found for me."

"Ah, the flat, yes," she said, coming to his side. "And was he able to seduce Mary's assistant while he was over there?"

"No," Tony spat. "He made some excuses, but he failed in that mission."

"I told you it was a longshot to begin with," she said dismissively. "Having a mole in Mary's inner circle would have been helpful, yes, but it was neither necessary nor worth all the risk. If something had happened to that girl, it could have been traced back to Green, and to you."

"Well, it's all moot now. I told him to leave her alone. We'll just proceed without her," he stated. "Green did learn a fair bit, though. Mary doesn't have anything planned once filming wraps on _Shattered_."

"I didn't expect her to," she noted. "She's got the Emmys in September, and she'll probably come back here for a spell. Other than that, she'll stay in Toronto. Henry's due back there for interviews at the end of this month, besides."

"So we know where she'll be for the next while," he said.

"Most likely, yes," she agreed. "We'll see her at the Emmys. No need to seek her out before then."

"Right. Stick to the plan," he said tightly.

"Patience, dear. This will take some time, but in the end, we'll get what we want. I'm going up to bed. Don't be too long," she said lightly.

He nodded and watched as she turned and left his study. Mabel Lane Fox was a beautiful woman. Her brown hair was styled in a wavy bob cut that went past her ears. Her green eyes made her look different, alluring. She had a pixieish quality to her, appearing disarming and shy, though that was hardly who she really was. She was a very good actress, hard-working and willing to do anything for a role. His eyes wandered down her body as she walked away. He had enjoyed their years together. They were well matched, sharing common ambitions, and she was always so refreshingly direct and to-the-point about everything.

But she wasn't Mary Crawley.

He downed the rest of his drink and went over to his desk, picking up his tablet and entering the passcode. Swiping over the screen, he opened his photo collection and smiled as he brought up the many shots of Mary that he'd accumulated over the years. There were photos of them together from when they were very young, taken at Downton Abbey when his family would go up to Yorkshire for the summer Garden Party that Lady Grantham always hosted. Other shots were of them in their teenage years, during Society gatherings in London. There were selfies from when they went to see each other's plays, pictures taken at Wimbledon and Royal Ascot. He had tracked down various other pictures – her headshots from her agent's website, copies of magazine covers and promotional posters. He paused as he came across a particular screen capture from an episode of _Paladin_.

It was a love scene. Henry was holding her against the wall, the camera behind him, showing a close-up shot of the back of his head and bare shoulders. Mary was clinging to him, her head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open in ecstasy.

He smiled as he traced the edge of her face with his finger. It was quite easy for him to ignore that it was Henry in the photo. After all, he and Henry were about the same height, had similar short haircuts, and the same dark brown hair colour.

His eyes focused on Mary in the throes of simulated passion. Rage bubbled inside of him as he recalled her cold stare and hateful words from the past. She was so driven, so focused on herself that she could sometimes fail to see and understand what was best for her. It had pained him when she rejected his advances, both back home and again when they were both in North America, but with time he'd gotten over it. He accepted that he needed to be patient, and spent the past years waiting for his chance. When the casting call for the role of Henry's rival in _Paladin_ came up, he jumped at it. Working opposite Mary would give him the opportunity he needed to get close to her. He would make her see what was truly important, what was right in front of her all along.

Closing the photo, he turned off his tablet and made his way out of the study towards the stairs. Mabel's scheme would ensure Mary was ruined, her career left in taters. She would reach the absolute lowest point of her life, and once she did, he would be there to pounce.

 **Gym, Athletic Centre, University of Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

Alex held the basketball against his hip with both hands, using his body to shield it from the defender crouched in front of him. He stepped back and slowly dribbled the ball off the floor, leaning down slightly to keep it low. Glancing up at the basket and the other players moving back and forth in front of him, he pointed at his defender and nodded his head.

Matthew's shoes squeaked on the floor as he came over and set a pick on Alex's defender, standing straight up beside the opposing player.

"Screen left! Screen left!" Matthew's defender called out just as Alex dribbled towards him. The guard stumbled and collided against Matthew, allowing Alex to move past unhindered.

Alex dribbled quickly to his right, then waited for both defenders to catch up to him, the two of them going towards the ball to try and recover. Matthew slid away and into the open space, raising his hands so Alex could see him. Alex quickly dribbled the ball between his legs and changed direction, looking off to his right to freeze both defenders, and passing the ball to his left. Matthew caught the ball and took a small step forward to square his shoulders to the basket before raising it above his head and shooting. Alex watched as the ball arched through the air, hit the back of the basket, then bounced up, came down on to the side of the rim before finally falling through.

"That's game!" Alex called, clapping his hands as he went over and bumped fists with Matthew.

Both teams exchanged handshakes and high fives before retiring to the showers. Alex and Matthew stayed behind, went over and sat down on a bench against one wall of the gym, taking long gulps of their sports drinks and wiping their faces with towels.

"Nice shot there at the end," Alex said.

"Fluke," Matthew replied.

"Yeah, but you set a good pick and moved well afterward, so you deserved it, sort of," Alex replied with a smile.

"I'll take it," Matthew said easily. "Do you have time for a drink?"

"Of course," Alex replied. "Mary out tonight? Anna mentioned something about people coming into town?"

Matthew nodded. "Her stylist and fashion team are in town. They're going over what she's planning to wear for the promotional interviews next week and her appearances at the film festival and the Emmys after that."

"Ah. And what about you? Have a few new outfits to unveil on the red carpet?" Alex joked.

Matthew rolled his eyes, taking another swallow of his sports drink. "Hardly. I've got a couple of meetings lined up, and there're a few parties, but no paparazzi worth his telephoto lens would waste time on me. For the Emmys, I'll just wear one of my own suits. No one's going to want to dress me."

"Just make sure it's Armani. If you show up wearing something else, they might pull you from their ad campaign," Alex said knowingly.

"Whatever," Matthew scoffed. "The photo shoot is next week and there's no way it'll lead to anything. If a few hundred people see it online, I'll be shocked."

"Have you decided what scripts you like?" Alex asked.

"I've narrowed them down. The meetings will help me figure it all out. It's funny. Just a few months ago, I would have begged for an audition for any of them. Now, I may end up turning some of them down," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Better to go for what you really want, rather than take on a job because you think you have to," Alex commented.

Matthew nodded. "We'll see. I could end up being rejected for all of them, and I'd be right back where I started."

"I think that no matter what happens, your career will never go back to where you started," Alex replied.

Matthew smiled.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

Mary sipped her wine and looked at the clothes hanging on the portable rack and arranged on the dining table with a discerning eye. Her stylist looked on, anxiously waiting on her pronouncement. They'd spent the best part of the last two hours going over different outfits, shoes, jewellery and accessories to figure out numerous looks for Mary for the numerous events and appearances she would be making in the next month. Something casual for _Paladin_ interviews next week, more formal for her planned attendances during the Toronto Film Festival in early September, and three or four ensembles for the parties and awards ceremony of Emmys weekend.

"I think I want a jumpsuit more than a dress for the _Variety_ party," Mary said carefully. "It'll be warm in California still and I'll have a heavier gown for the ceremony on the weekend."

"Right," her stylist said, moving some of the clothes from the floor to the rack and back again. "You can pick whatever you like for the parties. These gowns are the ones we've cleared with Henry's team."

Anna glanced up from her tablet. She looked over at Mary sympathetically at the mention of Henry's name. In the past, Mary had no problem making sure she and Henry matched on the red carpet when they made appearances together. She was always the main focus, since she had more flexibility in terms of outfits, colours and styles. Anna suspected that the idea of walking with Henry now wouldn't be as easy for Mary. Not only was it a reminder that Matthew wouldn't be with her, but with Aunt Rosamund's news that Henry may be leaving the show, he was hardly Mary's favourite person at the moment.

Mary frowned, arching her eyebrow as she walked over to the clothes rack and slowly sifted through the options. "Mmm, yes, he's wearing black again, isn't he?"

Anna smiled knowingly at her friend.

"His pocket square will match the dominant colour of your gown. He's already committed to Valentino, but I think it's better if you go with a different designer," her stylist advised.

"Yes, wouldn't want to be exactly in synch with him. We can't have that," Mary said wryly.

Her stylist looked at her curiously.

Mary had texted with Henry when he came into town yesterday. They were scheduled for a small press junket for _Paladin_ and since he was here, they were in discussions with their teams on where and when they would be appearing together during the Emmys in September. He hadn't made any mention about whether he was leaving the show, and there wasn't any opportunity to discuss it, either. They usually didn't talk about such things, anyway, but she always assumed they both would stay on the show as long as it ran, each season's renewal meaning they were both coming back. She was still undecided as to how she felt about going on without him, or even if she would, but the uncertainty of it all was annoying, to say the least. Her imagination ran away with images of Henry receiving all these plum roles, studios wining and dining him with promises of his movie career taking off, while she was left behind.

"Let's look at the jewellery again," Mary declared, taking another sip of wine and sharing a glance with Anna. "I need a bit of a pick-me-up and diamonds always do the trick!"

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

Matthew frowned as he flipped the pages of yet another script, the pile on the coffee table leaning to one side. He'd gone over them dozens of times in the past few days, trying to figure out which role he liked, which role he was best suited for, and whether the two meshed together, or not. Usually, he had a dream part in every script – either the lead, or the main supporting role – that he would study and rehearse before giving up and focusing his preparations on a smaller part that was more realistic for an actor like him who had no real pedigree. Part of him still wanted to play it safe, not try for too much with any of these projects.

He shook his head at his silly musings. When he read over the scripts, he even pictured whether Mary would enjoy herself visiting him on set in New Mexico, or the Canary Islands in Spain, or in Vancouver. Would she change her schedule to fly out to see him, or would they be left to Facetime and text messages more often than not? They hadn't talked much about their plans beyond September. He knew she was looking at scripts that her aunt Rosamund had sent over, and she was bound to be taking meetings when she was in California for the Emmys, but he had no clue what her next move would be, either between now and next February when _Paladin_ started shooting again, or even beyond that. He hadn't asked, and she hadn't mentioned them.

It wasn't that he doubted her support. She cared about his career, in her own reserved and subtle way. Of course, she would never change her own plans to accommodate whatever he was doing, but he didn't expect her to, either. He was confident that whatever they each decided for their careers, it wouldn't harm their relationship. They were both committed to being together, even if that meant spending months apart. It was all very mature and proper. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

The prospect of being separated as early as October made him all the more determined to savour these last weeks where he would have her to himself. Or, at least enjoy not having to share her as much with so many other obligations and interests while they lived in the same city.

He looked up at the sound of the front door opening and high heels clicking on the tile of the foyer. Blinking several times, he grinned in surprise as Mary came in.

"Hi," he said.

"Hello," she replied, smiling as she sat down on the couch and kissed him quickly.

"I thought you were staying out late tonight?" he asked.

"Well, we got done what we needed to, and had a nice chat over wine and oysters," she said easily, snuggling against him. "Anna had to get home, so we called it a night."

"Ah, yes. Not really someone who can go out for a proper drink anymore, that one," he said.

"Not if she wants to get knocked up straight away, she can't," she replied, laughing.

He shook his head at her. Mary always tended to lose her filter when she had too much to drink, not that she had much of one to begin with in his presence.

"Any hints you can give me on what glorious outfits you've chosen? Or do I need to wait for your photo to be all over Best Dressed Lists everywhere?" he asked.

She laughed at that. "I'll tell you later. There's still weeks to go yet. I'm quite happy about my choices, though. It's been a while since I've gotten all glammed up with a proper gown and all."

He smiled in understanding.

"Speaking of which, do you have your clothes settled? Anna sent you the itinerary for the film festival and California, right?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah, I got all that sorted. I didn't know if I would be going to all the events of Emmy weekend, since you'll be busy and all," he mumbled.

She arched her eyebrow and looked up at him. "Darling, of course you should go. I want you there. I only need to arrive with Henry, and that's just for the ceremony mainly. Besides that, I'm entirely free. And Gwen and her cast will be there, and plenty of other people you should be meeting, besides."

"Yeah, you're right," he said gamely. "It'll be good."

"On top of all that, if you don't show up, you may not see my surprise," she said mysteriously.

"Surprise?" he questioned, looking at her curiously.

"Mmm hmm," she said. "I'm going to colour my hair for the week we're there."

"Really? To what?" he asked. He had seen Mary cut her hair to various lengths for different roles, but she always kept her usual dark brown.

"A bit lighter, closer to auburn than brown," she said, running her hand through her long brunette tresses. "It'll go well with my gown. I'll change it back when we get back here to wrap filming,"

"I see," he said, looking at her as he tried to picture her as a redhead.

"Do you like?" she asked, smiling at him.

"I think I just might," he answered, leaning over and kissing her.

She laughed and snuggled against him again.

"So, what will be the next grand production to be graced by Matthew Reginald Crawley?" she asked lightly, reaching over and snatching the script from his lap. " _Black Panther_. Goodness. Dare I hope to see you in tights for the entire film?"

"Hardly. It's just a small part as a scientist, but for the chance to be in a Marvel film, it's worth it, or so the thinking goes," he said.

"That's true, though maybe you should try for a lead role in a smaller film," she suggested, skimming through the script. "Superhero movies seem like good fun, and if you can fit it in, then great, but they're not really what you want to build your career on, are they? Especially if it's just a few minutes of screen time?"

"Parts like that may be all I can hope to get. Do you honestly think anyone would let me carry a film? Who would think of me as having leading man potential?" he asked.

"I do, otherwise I wouldn't be here," she said cheekily, turning and kissing him playfully. "It's like I told you. You have to be bold, act like you belong, go into every audition like you own the room, as though it's an utter waste of time for them to even be considering anyone else. All the talent in the world is useless if you can't present yourself properly."

"I guess I've grown used to just being in the background," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"And that's what the powers-that-be will think of you as, unless you show them that you are capable of so much more," she said encouragingly. "And you do that by being brave in your choices, going out for roles that people think you have no business even thinking about, and proving them wrong. Look at how Thea came around on you. That was all because of your hard work, but also because of your confidence during the auditions."

"I suppose. I was rather motivated," he said. "I didn't want to let Alex down for getting me in, and when I found out you were going out for a role, well…"

"That's very sweet, but we weren't going to be playing opposite each other if I had gotten Sidney and you got Nico," she said, smiling and patting his chest.

"I know, but I was looking forward to showing you a thing or two all the same," he said.

"Well, if it helps, just imagine how impressed I'll be if you are able to land a lead role in one of these films," she said.

He laughed and nodded his head.

"Now, enough business for one day, darling," she said sultrily.

She tossed the script aside and sat up, swinging her leg over and straddling him, her arms falling across his shoulders. Leaning forward, she kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth, then moved her head lower to kiss his neck.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, chuckling as his hands reached around to fondle her bottom.

"Be a good boy and it'll be you, soon enough," she teased, grinding her hips against him

He hummed in pleasure at her boldness, pulling her against him as he kissed her deeply. "That sounds rather vulgar, doesn't it, Lady Mary?"

"But you like me when I'm vulgar, don't you?" she replied between kisses. "You like it when I talk dirty to you."

He groaned at her words, one hand moving up her back and tangling in her hair, tugging her head back a bit so he could lavish her pale neck with kisses.

"Say it," she commanded.

"Yeah, I like it," he said, kissing her hard.

"Do you want me on my knees?" she drawled, licking his ear. "Do you want to see if I can take all of you this time?"

"Oh God, Mary," he snarled, grunting as her hand snaked down between them and grasped him. "Please."

"Your wish is my command," she promised. "Anything you want, Matthew. Anything."

"Are you sure?" he gasped, pulling her shirt free of her shorts and feeling the bare skin of her back.

"Everything you've ever fantasized about," she drawled. "Now stop talking and fuck me."

They both began tearing at each other's clothes, kissing heatedly as they undid buttons and zippers. Any anxieties, worries, and concerns that each had were left unspoken, put off for another night.

 **Casa Loma, Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

"Okay, Matthew, just lean your head back a bit more. That's it. Right there, yeah, and hold it. Karla, turn your head towards me. Yeah, just a bit closer to his neck. Yeah, closer. There it is. Okay, hold it!"

Matthew swallowed slightly, staring up at the blue sky as the photographer snapped away. He could feel the female model's lace-covered breasts pressed against him, her hands on his arms, her warm breath on his neck. When he first arrived at this old castle for the photoshoot, he was pleasantly surprised. There would be no topless photos and his wardrobe consisted of a nice suit with no tie. It was refreshing that Armani wasn't trying to use sex to sell its cologne, or so he thought. Then Karla showed up.

She wasn't a full-time model, but certainly had the looks for it. When she came out of wardrobe and joined him, she took off her robe, revealing she was wearing a black bra and low-cut Armani jeans. He had to focus to keep his eyes on her face while they set up the first pose, and now, an hour into things, he didn't feel any more comfortable.

"Close your eyes, Matthew," the photographer instructed.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the stone column. As the camera shutter whirred away, he was grateful that he wasn't looking directly at Karla anymore, though the darkness of his closed eyes seemed to just enhance his other senses. He was further thankful that he was balancing his hands behind him, and not actively touching her. Most of all, he was grateful that Mary was busy on set today and couldn't accompany him.

"Karla, move down a bit lower."

He kept his eyes closed and tried to remain still as she shifted and rested her head on his stomach, her hands holding on to his waist. In the entire time they'd been here, he hadn't once seen a single bottle of cologne. The image would be added in later when the photos were finished, apparently. That only made the entire experience all the more strange. They were supposed to be selling cologne, and yet nothing they were doing seemed to have any connection to the product at all.

"And that's it! Great job!" the photographer called out.

Matthew opened his eyes in time to see Karla straighten up. She gave him a warm smile and patted his shoulder. "Good working with you, Matthew."

"Yeah, great, great working with you, too," he replied.

She turned and took her robe from a crew member, then headed inside the castle to change. He stood up straight and removed his suit jacket, passing it to an assistant.

"Great job, Matthew!" the photographer said enthusiastically as she came to his side. "They are going to absolutely love these! There's a quick turnaround so you should see them posted online soon. I'll let you know when they're up."

"Great, yeah, thanks," he muttered, not at all sure that he even wanted to see the finished photos.

"I'll keep your agent's info handy, if you don't mind. I would love to shoot you again," the photographer said.

"Sure, yeah," he said, giving her a smile before he went inside to get back into his own clothes.

 **Algonquin Room, Fairmont Royal York Hotel, Downtown Toronto, Canada, August 2016**

Mary sipped her water, looking over some of the promotional materials that were set up on a side table. There were postcards, posters, buttons, badges, even little plastic letter openers in the shape of a replica sword with the show logo on it. The press had been filing through here all day, smiling and laughing, asking their questions and going on their way, pockets full of _Paladin_ swag. The junket was finally done with, her obligations fulfilled. There would be more questions when she made appearances between now and the Season 4 premiere in November, but this was the traditional end of another _Paladin_ cycle. No more filming, formal interviews or commitments until starting Season 5 in February of next year.

She frowned as she perused the selection on the table. There were very few items with just her or Henry on them. Everything was designed with the two of them together in one of several poses – standing with him behind her, or facing each other, or staring into each other's eyes, or even kissing passionately. The show was a combination of fantasy and modern drama with different stories for various characters, but at its heart, _Paladin_ was about Jade and Frederick, and they pushed the two of them together at every turn, and the audience devoured it.

Even before they started promoting their 'showmance' the hardcore fanbase would comment online about how attractive they looked together. There were always compliments about how electric their chemistry was onscreen, how they supposedly had so much in common – both being from England, knowing each other in London and now getting a chance to work together here – even how gorgeous their babies would be. Mary had no illusions about how crucial the show's popularity was in lifting her profile and career. She had plenty of fans of her own, particularly women who loved what a strong character Jade was, but the vast majority of _Paladin_ fans were fans of her and Henry and their characters together.

And now Henry was apparently willing to turn his back on all of that.

"You all right?" the man himself called, coming to her side.

She glanced over at him indifferently. "Just tired from the past few days of answering the same questions. You know how it gets."

"What's up with you, darling?" he asked. "You're usually far more chipper about these things."

She looked at him thoughtfully, wondering whether he was just playing with her, or if the rumours were only just that. Maybe he hadn't decided to leave?

"Whenever we do these things, it makes me think about the future, is all. How much longer are we going to be going through this? How many more seasons do we have?" she asked, watching for his reaction.

"I quite like taking it one year at a time, actually," he replied easily. "It helps motivate you to give your all, as who knows if we'll be back again, or not?"

"Planning your exit already, are you?" she asked lightly.

"I've worked hard to make sure that I don't need to stay on the show if I don't want to," he said. "Millions of people know me as Frederick, yes, but that's not all I'm capable of, and most importantly, studios and producers know it now. If the network decides to end us after this next season, I won't be bothered by it. My career isn't dependent on them."

"A worthy goal," she stated, her chest tightening slightly as she tried to read his words and expression.

"Don't you want the same thing?" he asked. "You'd rather leave on your terms than anyone else's, wouldn't you?"

She arched her eyebrow and nodded slowly. "Of course. But then again, there is something to be said for loyalty, seeing things through to the end, rather than jumping ship for supposedly greener pastures."

He smirked at her, then took a sip of his water. "Darling, if you've got something on your mind, go on and ask me. There's no need to play games."

She frowned at him, looked away for a moment, then returned her glare to his smiling face.

"All right, fine. There's talk that you've already arranged for your departure, that this coming season will be your last," she said.

"Technically, we're all only signed for one more year, Mary. You know that," he said.

"Yes, but there's always been an understanding that if the network wants us back, we'll all come back. Our negotiations have always been on the idea of the cast staying on," she pointed out. "And they won't stop now, not with where the ratings are and our Emmy nominations. We'll get a Season 6, at least."

"So you're saying you're willing to remain on indefinitely? As long as the network keeps renewing the show, you'll keep re-signing, no matter that we're coming to the end of the canon story from the books and we're off on our own? No matter how recycled the stories may get, or how ridiculous, or how many potential movie roles you may miss out on because scheduling doesn't allow you to do them, you'll still keep coming back?" he asked.

"No, but if I were contemplating leaving, I would give you the courtesy of telling you so," she retorted.

He chuckled at her annoyance. "Out of duty? Out of some sense of obligation for all that we've been through together?"

"For all that we've built together, yes. You know perfectly well that our audience identifies the show with the two of us," she replied. "It's rather bad form to plan your own escape and leave the rest of us behind."

"Why, Mary," he teased. "I always hoped that you wanted me, but I didn't know that you needed me so badly."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm being serious, Henry."

"As am I," he said. "Mary, this is my moment now. Another Emmy nomination, with more awards to come, three movies due to be released this year and next. My agent can barely handle all the calls coming in."

"And you want to seize the moment, rather than waste your time on television," she said accusingly.

"It certainly is appealing. We both came over here to make our mark, didn't we? Did you envision being on a television show for 5 years or longer? You see yourself on the big screen, Mary, with your name in lights. Don't bother trying to deny it," he said.

She huffed and looked away, taking another sip of water.

"You could convince me to stay, you know," he said smugly.

Her eyes went wide as she turned back to look at his arrogant smile. "What are you talking about?"

"I think you know. You're a clever girl, Mary. Figure it out. I'll wait," he said.

She huffed and shook her head. "Are you mad? I'm with Matthew."

"Are you really?" he mused. "Funny, that's not what _People_ , and _Us Weekly_ , and _TMZ_ think, is it? Why, I read something yesterday in _The Huffington Post_ speculating about what we were going to wear to the Emmys. They thought we were coordinating our outfits."

"Your people planted that story," she spat.

"With full approval from yours," he said lightly. "Tell me, where will your boyfriend be sitting during the ceremony? Did you get him a seat at the back of the Orchestra at least, or will he have to fend for himself way up in the Mezzanine?"

She frowned at him. "Don't be such an ass. I know it's terribly difficult to go against your nature, but try. This has nothing to do with Matthew."

"I agree. This is about you and me," he said firmly, looking at her pointedly as he leaned in closer. "You need me, Mary. Deep down, underneath that cold veneer and those witty barbs of yours, you know you can't carry this show by yourself, and you don't want to risk being the first one to leave and bearing all the backlash that would come with it. You at least need me to stay around long enough for you to plan your exit strategy to run along with mine, or to commit to a sixth season. Either way, there's very little in it for me. I don't need the money, and staying on won't increase my profile any more beyond what it already is. If you want my help, you're going to have to earn it."

"And what will that entail, as if I didn't already know," she sneered.

He grinned at her and lowered his voice. "Exactly. Accept my generous offer that I've left open to you for quite some time. Leave that stupid buffoon behind and everything will fall into place. We'll do the fifth season, then leave together. The press will eat it up. 'Real-life couple Henry Talbot and Mary Crawley choose to grow their careers together and bid a tearful farewell to _Paladin_ '. The extra attention will get you into the conversation for all those starring roles you dream of. Everyone wins."

"And in return, I'm to be your whore," she said coldly. "Don't pretend that we would have a real relationship, or that you would even be able to remain faithful to one woman."

"I prefer the term, paramour, actually. It sounds so much classier," he said, unfazed. "Come on, Mary. How long do you honestly believe you'll be able to keep this up with Mr. Actor-nobody's-ever-heard-of? It's all nice and neat with the two of you working on the same movie for now, but what happens in a month, three months, next year? Are you going to keep carrying him, supporting him, making all the money and begging producers to give him background parts in your projects to keep some semblance of a relationship?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but Matthew's future is very bright. His work on _Shattered_ is already earning him buzz and attention from the studios. He's brilliant, and clever, and none of that matters anyway. I'm not with him for his profile."

"Well that's good, because his profile is non-existent," he answered. "If you want to tie yourself to an ordinary chap like him, then so be it. But, really, what's the point? You stay with him for another year, two, even three. Stay on the show until the network decides to cancel. You'll wake up one day stuck in a boring relationship with a career that is just a shadow of what it could have been because you'll be an actress in her thirties with no lead movie roles on your CV. If that's what you want, then fine. But if you want something more, if you want to be truly great, to be a star, then you'll make the right decision now before it's too late."

She huffed and shook her head, unable to keep looking at his holier-than-thou smile.

"Fine. I offered," he said easily, finishing his drink.

"So that's it? You're leaving after this next season, just like that?" she grumbled.

"I never confirmed that, did I?" he said, stroking his chin. "I guess you'll just have to find out when the rest of the world does, or if you want to loosen my tongue, you know what to do. Good night, darling."

She cringed as he kissed her cheek lightly and walked away.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

Matthew zipped up his shorts, then reached over and took a long drink of his Cherry Coke before lying back on the bed, wiping his damp hair away from his forehead. Taking several deep breaths, he waited for his pulse to calm, his legs feeling pleasantly weak. Shooting had ended a while ago, but the moment that he and Mary had returned to his trailer, she had jumped on him. He thought she was just playing around at first, but he soon realized she was completely serious when she put him on his back on the bed and stripped his shorts and underwear off. In no time her mouth and hands had him fully aroused and he had to muffle his shouts with a pillow when she sent him flying.

"What's the matter with you?" Mary asked, smiling at him as she came out of the bathroom, fully dressed and looking immaculate once again. She took a sip of her apple juice, then put the bottle aside and joined him in bed.

"Nothing, nothing at all," he said, wrapping his arm around her as she cuddled against his chest. "I just won't be able to walk for a few hours until I recover from what you just did to me, is all."

"A small price to pay, wouldn't you say?" she teased, running her hand over his shirt.

"Gladly," he replied.

She laughed and closed her eyes, purring in contentment as he massaged her back.

"Something you want to tell me?" he asked.

"Mmm, no. Why?" she mumbled, eyes still closed.

"It's just that you've been rather voracious for a few weeks now," he noted.

"Yes? I'm quite addicted to this gorgeous body of yours, aren't I?" she said smugly. "And you've come up with some rather creative positions lately."

"That's very kind of you to say, but something tells me you're not being entirely honest with me," he said.

She opened her eyes and lifted her head, frowning as she looked at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not saying that you're being dishonest," he noted. "And believe me, I am certainly not complaining about getting to have wild sex with you constantly. I just want to know that you're all right."

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, still frowning.

"I haven't a clue, but you wouldn't be the first person who's tried to forget her troubles by having lots of sex, and I just want you to know that you can talk to me, in addition to all the other things we've been doing," he said.

She looked at his placid expression and rolled her eyes. Why couldn't he just for once be a typical man and just take advantage of how ravenous she'd been lately and not ask questions?

"What do you think I'm trying to avoid?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know, but I do know that for my part, I'm terrified about what I'm going to do next after _Shattered_ ," he said, taking a deep breath before continuing. "And I'm not just talking about my career. I don't want to be apart from you, at all, and I'm scared of how desperate and pathetic that sounds, and that if I tell you, you'll think me stupid and sentimental. So, with you being so eager lately, I've been able to avoid having that conversation by just spending all my spare time ravishing you instead."

She blinked in shock, her mouth falling open at his admission. He kept his eyes on hers, despite the jolt of fear filling his chest.

Taking a deep breath, she exhaled loudly, then shook her head and met his eyes again. "Henry's supposedly leaving _Paladin_. He won't say so, but there're rumours that he's already told the network that Season 5 will be his last."

He frowned in surprise.

"It's not that I care if he stays, or not. Not really," she explained. "It isn't as if I love working with him, or anything."

"But you've built a large following with him. _Paladin_ is the two of you together, and if it's just you, that changes things," he suggested.

She nodded her head. "I know you'll think I'm being shallow, or paranoid, but the fact is that I need Henry, at least for another year, maybe two. I don't know if I'm ready to be done with the show, and I don't know if I want to stay if he's gone. I know I can deliver the same numbers if they give me a good storyline, but who knows if they can? It's just a lot to consider, at a time when I didn't think I'd have to deal with this prospect. Usually I just focus on the next six months and that's it."

"And now you have to make a decision that may impact the next six years," he said.

"Exactly," she confirmed, nodding her head. "And thinking about my future on _Paladin_ makes me think about my future generally. Aunt Rosamund thinks I should do movies exclusively, or transition to another show, leave _Paladin_ before I get stereotyped, or pigeonholed. It all makes perfect sense, but I just don't know."

"I see," he said. "It's a lot to think about, clearly."

She nodded, her voice going quiet. "I don't know what's going to happen to Granny, my show, my career, even where I'll be living a year from now. It's like one of those life lessons that Mum is always telling us. 'Live in the moment. Everything can seem golden one minute, and ashes the next.' Things can change rather quickly in this business, can't they?"

"They can, yes," he agreed.

She smiled bravely as she brought his hand to her lips. "Thank God that you're the one thing in my life I don't have to worry about."

He blinked in surprise at her confidence. "And what if you have to come visit me on set in Texas, or Spain, or Greece?" he asked.

"Well, I suppose you'll have to make sure I'm completely slathered with sunscreen because you know how I don't like to tan," she said, smirking at him.

He chuckled and nodded, smiling at her with a mix of love and relief.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. "We can sort through all the pros and cons, consider all your options, and discuss the possible consequences of every available path."

"I would like that, thank you," she said, nodding her head. "I just want to get through these next few weeks and wrap on _Shattered_ first. It feels wrong to contemplate leaving the show when I'll be with everyone at the Emmys in a few weeks. I'll let you know when I need you, all right?"

He pulled her down into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "Anytime."

 **The Magnificent Seven Gala Opening, Toronto Film Festival, Roy Thomson Hall, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

Matthew walked past the screaming crowds held back behind the barriers, past the mobs of paparazzi jostling for the best position, and past the scurrying volunteers and staff trying to maintain some sense of organization to the debut evening of the Toronto International Film Festival. Every year since Matthew had moved here, the event seemed to grow in size and prestige. Each new edition swelled with more – more stars, more gala worldwide premieres, more adoring crowds, more traffic, more everything. Still, the bigger it got, the more some things still remained the same. A quick flash of his VIP pass and he was allowed in ahead of the line, no one even knowing or caring who he was.

Walking around the spacious circular lobby, he found a quiet space off to the side of one of the entrances to the theatre and took out his phone. Mary would be arriving shortly. Though she wasn't a part of the cast, some celebrities were invited to walk the red carpet at festival premieres. It helped show that even famous people were excited to attend the festival, and in return, it would get Mary's photo and name splashed across the media and internet. He was glad that for once, she didn't have to show up with Henry or anyone else. It was just the two of them this time. Well, the two of them and tens of thousands of screaming fans across the street.

"There you are," she called out, and he looked up in surprise as she joined him and kissed him quickly. "Let's go in and sit down. They're running quite late, so it'll be a while before the movie even starts."

She took his hand and led him across the lobby and down a long ramp to the Orchestra seating. The hall was about a quarter full. An usher led them to their seats, in behind the cordoned-off area for the film's stars, but still closer than the general audience.

Mary crossed her legs and leaned back in her comfortable chair, her hand covering Matthew's resting on her thigh. She'd worn a sleeveless white top and a short skirt with a colourful floral print, the weather still quite warm. She made a quick pass along the red carpet, pausing just long enough to be photographed and to answer one question from a reporter about what she was most looking forward to seeing at the festival. It was actually rather nice to be able to move along quickly and not have to worry about stopping to talk to every reporter and pose for every photo.

"I don't think I've ever seen a movie in here," Matthew noted, glancing up at the high ceiling and the acoustic elements all around.

"It's normally a concert hall, isn't it?" she replied. "I've seen the symphony here a few times. They're quite good."

"They are," he agreed. "Well, this should be fun. I'm expecting it to be good."

"It can't be any worse than _Suicide Squad_ ," she teased, arching her eyebrow at him. "Another winner pick of yours."

"I just couldn't imagine them screwing up both of their big summer blockbusters," he complained.

"And yet they did, if you can call taking in over $700 million worldwide a failure," she noted. "Still, it was rather rubbish. I've higher hopes for this one."

"I can't really picture Denzel as a cowboy, but I'm sure he'll be brilliant," he said enthusiastically.

"Are you sure you'll be able to control yourself being in the same theatre as him?" she joked.

"I'll manage," he said wryly. "If I had to talk to him, I would probably faint, but if it's just seeing him from afar, I'll be all right."

She laughed and shook her head. This was their one movie during the festival. They didn't have any time to see anything else. The rest of the week would be spent on set, with meetings in the late afternoons and early evenings. They were flying out to California midway through the second week, and the festival would be over by the time they got back.

Mary had already had lunch with one studio and dinner with another. Behind all the glitz and glamour, executives liked to use festivals to do business since everyone was in the same city for a decent amount of time. Her meetings and appearances during the week were for networking and trying to see whether any project really grabbed her. She was still unconvinced as to what she would do, both in the next few months, and beyond, but it was important to keep her name out there and remain fresh in people's minds.

Matthew rubbed the silk of her skirt between his fingers. In past years, he had to buy a ticket to these screenings just like anyone else. This was the first time he received any special treatment. His meetings had a similar surreal vibe to them. Studio executives and producers actually seemed interested in talking to him, actually seemed to listen to what he had to say. He had no clue whether he was any closer to his next job, but they weren't discouraging him from throwing his hat in, which was progress in and of itself. It was almost as though by being in _Shattered_ , he had crossed some imaginary threshold. He wasn't yet a lead actor, but he wasn't just dismissed anymore either.

"Remember to breathe," she whispered as Denzel Washington, Chris Pratt, Ethan Hawke and the rest of the cast filed into the theatre.

"I often have to remind myself to do so when I'm so close to you, darling," he replied, giving her a cute smile.

She rolled her eyes and grinned. They rose to their feet and applauded along with the rest of the audience as the moderator took the stage to introduce the movie.

 **SoHo House Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

Matthew sipped his Grey Goose and soda and smiled, watching on as Mary gave another actress a warm hug and exchanged pleasantries. In the past twenty minutes, he'd observed her work the room with aplomb, using an arsenal of well-practised phrases that seemed to be rather common amongst the crowd gathered here for the first after-party of the festival.

' _Oh my God! You're here! I had no idea you were coming in!'_

' _You look fabulous!'_

' _How long are you in town? We should try and catch up. What else do you have planned this week?'_

It was actually quite impressive to watch. Everyone seemed to have their own variation on the same collection of phrases, all of them uttered with sufficient emotion as to seem genuine. It wasn't unlike any other party where everyone were more acquaintances than friends, where warm greetings and false promises flowed as easily as the alcohol – in this case, vodka provided by the title sponsor – but the fact they were all actors and actresses going through the same motions made things all the more comical.

He didn't know anyone here, and didn't even know where to begin to start networking, or making connections, or whatever it was that came so second nature to Mary. Rather than retreat into a corner and count the minutes until he was allowed to leave, he picked up a drink and wandered around, content to just enjoy the moment.

"You look rather pleased with yourself," Mary said, appearing at his side and giving him a kind smile.

"Why shouldn't I be?" he replied, holding his drink with both hands and resisting the urge to put his arm around her waist. "I'm enjoying free vodka at an exclusive party full of Hollywood types. Life is good."

"Aren't these types of gatherings anathema to your belief that art should be pure and free of politics? Doesn't it disgust you to see all these people pretending to be friendly with each other, playing the game?" she teased.

He looked at her and smiled, his blue eyes strong and captivating.

"Sometimes, a party is just a party, Mary," he said.

She arched her eyebrow and smirked.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that, because I have someone that I want you to meet," she replied.

His eyes followed hers as she looked past him to a slightly taller man with a solid build, brown hair and a light beard and moustache. He blinked in surprise as the man nodded to him in greeting.

"Chris, this is Matthew. Matthew, Chris Pratt," she said easily.

"How you doing?" Chris said, shaking Matthew's hand. "Mary tells me that you're co-stars?"

"We are, yes," Matthew replied, glancing over at Mary before releasing Chris' hand and smiling at him.

"We're more than that, though," Mary added. "We've known each other for years. Our families are very close back home."

"Ah, cool," Chris said, nodding his head.

They made small talk for a few minutes. Matthew congratulated Chris on the movie. Chris mentioned how much he was enjoying Toronto and answered all of Matthew's questions on _Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 2_ , which was scheduled for release next April. Mary had met Chris and his wife several times during awards shows and what not over the years, though she'd never mentioned it to Matthew before. They began trading stories of how they each came up. Chris used to be a nobody, an unknown actor who got rejected constantly. While Matthew knew that everyone had to start somewhere, it was rather eye opening to hear all of his tales of woe and understand how far he had come in his career.

"Oh, hang on a second, I just have to take this," Chris said, taking his phone out of his jacket pocket.

Matthew turned to Mary to give Chris some privacy. She just smiled smugly back at him.

"Oh, you want to talk to him? Right now? Oh, okay, okay, sure, yeah…hang on, sir," Chris said before taking the phone and passing it to Matthew. "Matthew, it's for you."

Matthew frowned, then took the phone and brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Is this Matthew? Matthew Crawley, right?" a deep voice asked.

Matthew blinked, staring at Chris's smiling face, then at Mary. "Yes, yes this is he."

"Matthew, Denzel Washington, how are you?"

"Great! I…very good, thanks," Matthew mumbled.

"Listen, I'm sorry I'm not at the party. When you get to be my age and have gone to a few hundred premieres, you can't go out the way you used to. Did you enjoy the movie?"

"I did, yeah," Matthew replied. "I'm a bit of a fan."

"That's what I heard. Thank you. Thank you very much. Now, someone told me that you worked on your American accent by watching some of my movies, is that right?"

Matthew turned to Mary in shock. She merely grinned at him and sipped her vodka.

"Yeah, yeah, I did," he admitted.

"Well, I hope that didn't mess you up too much."

"No, no, not at all," Matthew chuckled. "It's helped a lot."

"Good. Well, thanks for coming out. You keep working hard and I hope to meet you sometime soon. If you see me, you can come up and tell me that I owe you a proper introduction because I skipped out on the party, all right?"

"Will do, yeah," Matthew said, nodding and grinning rather adorably.

"All right, great. You have a good night, Matthew, and maybe I'll be attending one of your premieres one day."

"You're more than welcome anytime. All right, bye," Matthew said, passing the phone back to Chris.

"Yes, sir. No, sir, I won't drink too much, sir, no. I'm going back to the hotel to call my wife and kid right now, sir, yes," Chris said into the phone, motioning that he had to leave.

Matthew and Mary smiled and waved him away. He nodded and smiled before heading for the exit.

"How did you do that?" Matthew asked, staring at her in bewilderment.

"Well, what's the point of dating an actress if you can't get some benefit from her connections?" she teased. "I don't know Denzel myself, but when I saw Chris, I asked him if he could bring him over to say hi, and that's when I found out he wasn't actually here. Chris was great though. He's the one who texted him and set up the call."

"Thank you," he said warmly. "That was great."

"I'm just sorry that you didn't record the conversation, but I did get a photo for you," she said, showing him her phone. "You do look rather starstruck just hearing his voice."

He laughed as he looked at her phone and shook his head.

"Now, are you ready to go? I think I've about had it for the night," she said. "Take me home?"

"There's a bit of a mob outside. I don't know if you'll be able to get to a cab without having to pose for photos," he said.

"Well, then I'm in luck because my boyfriend's condo building is actually just up the street," she said, smiling at him and arching her eyebrow. "Fancy making a run for it?"

"After you, my Lady," he said, nodding his head.

She took his hand and led him away from the party and out a side door. They crossed through the lobby of the Shangri-La hotel next door and crossed the street to Matthew's building, just another loving couple coming home from a fun night out.


	13. Chapter 13

**Previously:**

 **SoHo House Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

"Thank you," he said warmly. "That was great."

"I'm just sorry that you didn't record the conversation, but I did get a photo for you," she said, showing him her phone. "You do look rather starstruck just hearing his voice."

He laughed as he looked at her phone and shook his head.

"Now, are you ready to go? I think I've about had it for the night," she said. "Take me home?"

"There's a bit of a mob outside. I don't know if you'll be able to get to a cab without having to pose for photos," he said.

"Well, then I'm in luck because my boyfriend's condo building is actually just up the street," she said, smiling at him and arching her eyebrow. "Fancy making a run for it?"

"After you, my Lady," he said, nodding his head.

She took his hand and led him away from the party and out a side door. They crossed through the lobby of the Shangri-La hotel next door and crossed the street to Matthew's building, just another loving couple coming home from a fun night out.

 **Chapter 13:**

 **Office of Joseph Molesley & Associates, Soho, London, England, Friday, September 9, 2016**

"Joseph Molesley's office," she said crisply into her headset, continuing to type away on her keyboard as she took the call.

"Hello, is that Phyllis? It's Lady Rosamund Painswick," Rosamund said authoritatively from the other end of the call.

Phyllis Baxter blinked and stopped typing. She swallowed and turned away from her computer, reaching for a pen and the blank notepad that she always kept on her desk. "Yes, Lady Rosamund, hello. How may we help you?"

"Phyllis, my office is sending over the final itinerary for next week's trip to Los Angeles for the Emmys," Rosamund declared. "I'm sure that Mary will go over it with Matthew, but I wanted Joseph to have a copy."

"Thank you, Lady Rosamund. I'll see that he gets it," Phyllis replied.

"Very good. If you could just remind him once more to have a chat with Matthew. This is a very important weekend for Mary, you understand. If she wins the Emmy, it will transform her career. Every minute of her stay in California has been planned and organized to give her maximum exposure and present her in the most favourable light. This requires absolute perfect execution by everyone involved," Rosamund explained.

"Yes, Lady Rosamund," Phyllis said, frowning slightly. "We're all pulling for Mary over here."

"That's nice, Phyllis. I'm sure she'll appreciate your good wishes. Now, just make sure that Matthew maintains a respectable distance away from her and that will help immensely," Rosamund said.

Phyllis frowned deeper now. "Well, we've got Matthew arriving separately for the opening parties on Friday, the BAFTA/LA lunch on Saturday and the ceremony and parties on the Sunday. I'm sure it won't hurt for him to be seen talking to Mary, will it?"

"That's just the thing, Phyllis, it surely will," Rosamund corrected her. "Once or twice, perhaps, is fine. But I don't want him hanging around her constantly, following her around and barging into all of her photos and interviews. Just tell him to remain in the background where he belongs. She already is committed to arriving with Henry at most of the events, or on her own. We want all the attention on her, you understand."

"Where he belongs?" Phyllis questioned, her brow furrowing in shock.

"Yes, exactly. Many thanks, Phyllis. Give my regards to Joseph. Good bye," Rosamund said curtly.

Phyllis opened her mouth to say something further, but Lady Rosamund had already hung up. She slowly removed her headset and put it down on her desk, her face still cringing as anger and indignation began to flare in her chest.

"Where he belongs?!" she muttered, blinking several times. Suddenly, she reached for a file folder, glanced at it briefly, then got up from her desk and walked purposefully across the small room and through the glass door of her husband's office.

"Joe," she called, walking up to his large desk.

"Mmm, yes, dear?" Joseph Molesley mumbled. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the television mounted on the wall next to his desk. As usual, BBC News filled the screen. He was doing that thing where he rubbed his hands together back and forth, entirely oblivious to whatever was going on inside his own office. Normally, she didn't mind. The less he got in her way, the better. But this time was different.

"We need to talk about Matthew," she declared.

"Mmm, yes, what about Matthew?" he asked, still watching television.

"Lady Rosamund just called. She said she's forwarding this weekend's itinerary for the Emmys," she explained. "She also wanted to remind us to make sure Matthew doesn't hang around Lady Mary too often, which means she doesn't want him around her at all, essentially."

"Mmm, well just forward it on to Matthew when we get it. He'll know what to do," he muttered.

"Joe," she called.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Turn around and look at me right this instant!" she snarled.

He shook from her sudden firm tone and spun away from the television. His eyes wide, he looked at his wife and office manager apologetically, recoiling slightly at her determined expression.

"Yes, dear? I'm so sorry. What is it? About Matthew, yes?" Joe babbled.

"Yes, Joe!" she said, shaking her head. She put the file folder down in front of him. "Matthew's going to the Emmys this weekend and we haven't done enough to support him."

"Support him?" he repeated, looking down at the folder in confusion, then back up at her. "He's got a few meetings lined up, we sent him the information on the parties he's going to, and he's all set for the ceremony. What else is there?"

"Look at where he's sitting," she said, opening the file folder and pointing to the seating plan with Matthew's seat circled and highlighted. "They've got him practically in the Mezzanine, he's so far back."

"Yes, but he really has no reason to be there, dear," Joe said softly. "He isn't nominated and he's not presenting or affiliated with any show. He's there to support Lady Mary, that's all."

"And how do you suppose that he's going to support her when he'll need binoculars just to see her?" she demanded.

"It's…complicated…you know that. There's the whole matter of Henry Talbot to consider," Joe whinged. "Matthew seems all right with it all."

"Of course he's all right with it. The man doesn't have a selfish bone in his body," she scoffed. "Joe, he's our client. When you took over the agency from your father, when half of his clients left you straight away, Matthew stayed. He's done nothing but trust that you have his best interests at heart all this time. He's made no demands on us, barely even calls to ask us how things are going. He's about to wrap on the biggest movie of his career, a role that he got through no help from us, I might add. Don't you think it's about high time we did some real work for him?"

He swallowed nervously. "Like what?"

"Like make sure he's treated just a touch better than as a damn seat filler," she said.

"Well, I suppose I could maybe try and get him a better seat, maybe closer to the middle of the Orchestra?" he suggested, looking at the papers in the file folder.

She stared up at the ceiling in exasperation. "I think we can do better than that."

"We can?" he questioned, looking up at her in confusion.

"Leave it to me," she said, grabbing the file folder from his desk. "I'll need you to sign off on everything once it's set up, so when I put a call through to you, whoever it is, you act as though you know what's going on and you had better bloody well fight for that boy the way he deserves!"

"Yes, dear," he said, watching as she strode from his office and back to her desk. He looked down at his desk, over at his computers, up at the television and back again. "Right, then. Fight for Matthew. Very well."

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, Monday, September 12, 2016**

"I can't be sure about anything now, especially when it comes to you," she said accusingly. "Who are you? Did I ever know? Did you ever really show me?"

"I'm Nico. The same Nico you noticed at the bar. The same Nico you called without knowing exactly why. The same Nico you tried to get rid of, but couldn't. What you felt, what I felt, what we feel, all of that is real," he replied, stepping towards her.

Mary frowned and looked down at her script pages.

"I know," Matthew said, sighing and sitting back down on the small sofa in his trailer. "There's something wrong."

"Is it repeating the 'Nicos' over and over, do you think?" she asked, sitting down next to him and looking over the script. "Maybe you should just say Nico the one time and change the rest?"

"Change them to 'the same…guy'?" he suggested.

"Could work," she said, nodding her head as she considered his change. "He isn't overly verbose, so maybe that's why it doesn't sound right for him to be talking and talking."

"What about 'the same man'?" he offered.

"Guy sounds more like something he would say," she answered. "The same man…who says that?"

"Not him, apparently," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What's wrong?" she asked, leaning towards him and running her hand over his shoulder. "You're tense."

"It's nothing, just a bit sore from the gym this morning and a bit stressed over squeezing five days of shooting into the next three before we leave," he confessed. "Mmm, that feels good."

She massaged his shoulders with both hands, smiling as his head fell back slightly. "You're a big-time actor now, Mr. Crawley. The jet-set life is what we're all about. You had best get used to it."

"Big-time…right…mmm, darling, that's good," he sighed.

She chuckled and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "Why don't we take a break and you let me help you relax a bit?"

"Mmm, now that's a dangerous thought," he said thickly. "What does relaxing me involve exactly?"

"Well," she said sultrily, moving to whisper in his ear. "First, I'm going to get on my knees, and put your…"

Before she could continue, they were interrupted by a knocking at the door to his trailer.

"Come in," he called, as Mary removed her hands from his shoulders and stood up.

A tall, thin man came into the trailer, a suit bag slung over one arm. He smiled broadly at Matthew and reached out his hand.

"Hello, hello! Oh my goodness, you are just so much more gorgeous in person!" the man exclaimed, shaking Matthew's hand vigorously. He turned to Mary and laughed. "Don't you just want to eat him up?"

Mary smiled wryly and glanced over at Matthew in amusement. "The thought has crossed my mind, yes."

"Thanks. Erm…who are you?" Matthew asked, releasing the man's hand finally.

"Oh, how stupid of me! I'm Derek, Derek David Wilson Jr., but you can just call me DD. All my clients do. And of course you're Matthew. And you! You're Lady Mary Crawley! Oh, I love _Paladin_ so much! Jade is my absolute fave! Your style, even when you're wearing that full leather armour, it's absolutely amazing! You just kick ass and don't ask any questions, no you do not!" Derek gushed.

Now it was Matthew's turn to smile as Mary accepted the compliments smoothly.

"Thank you…DD," she managed. "What brings you by?"

"Oh, just delivering some lovely goodies for Mr. Blue Eyes here," Derek laughed, going over and spreading out the suit bag on the bed and unzipping it. "It was a bit of a rush. I usually have a lot more lead time to put something like this together, but your agent was quite insistent, and, well, who am I to turn down a chance to dress someone for the Emmys? It will be so fabulous!"

Mary and Matthew shared a confused glance.

"Here you are, Armani Privé, from the new collection, classic black, just so sophisticated and timeless. Go on and try it on to make sure it fits well. They gave me your measurements, but have to be sure it's perfect before you go down to California," Derek raved, holding up a black suit.

Mary blinked in surprise.

"That's rather excessive, isn't it?" Matthew asked. He was expecting to just wear his own suit, after all.

"Not for the red carpet, honey," Derek said, handing the suit to him. "Now go on!"

"Red carpet?" Matthew repeated, getting up off the sofa.

"Matthew isn't walking the red carpet. There must be some mistake," Mary said.

"Oh no, sweetheart, DD does not make mistakes. I was specifically hired by Joseph Molesley to dress Matthew for the Emmys, and girl, when DD is given a job to do, it gets done! Now where is that email? Ah!" Derek spoke quickly as he scrolled through his phone and found the email from Phyllis. He showed it to Mary as Matthew looked on.

"Matthew will be walking the red carpet. His arrival slot is confirmed for 4pm," Mary read, her eyebrow arching. "Well, then."

"Come on, Matthew! Let's go!" Derek snapped, clapping his hands. "Time to be fabulous!"

Matthew turned and went into the bathroom to change.

 **BAFTA/LA TV Tea Party, Boxwood Restaurant, The London West Hollywood Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, Saturday, September 17, 2016**

"So what do we do, now that we're in?" Alex asked, looking around the elegantly decorated restaurant as he and Matthew came through.

"I don't know, exactly. It's supposed to be a tea party, but it's too late in the evening for tea, not to mention no one actually sits down to have tea, at least not properly," Matthew replied. "I think in each room there's a different studio or show that kind of holds court, but seeing as we don't belong to either, I guess we just…circulate."

"Circulate…" Alex repeated as if tasting the word on his tongue. "I can do that."

"Don't you know studio executives or industry people here that we can blend in with?" Matthew asked. "Mary's not arriving until later and I'm not to hang around her anyway."

"This again," Alex grumbled. "Is Henry coming with her?"

"I think they're arriving separately but will be photographed together later," Matthew said. "I have it on my email but I can't remember which events have which protocols. Last night went quite well, actually. She hung out with him just long enough to take photos and get inside the parties, and we didn't have to see him the rest of the night."

Alex smiled in understanding. "So you actually got time with your girlfriend last night, is what you're saying."

"More than I expected to get, anyway," Matthew replied. "Tomorrow will be different, I'm sure. If either one of them wins an Emmy, then they'll be quite inseparable, I imagine."

"Ah well," Alex said.

"How's Anna? I've barely been able to say two words to her since we landed," Matthew asked.

"She's good," Alex replied. "She likes all the running around and going from this event to that party and all the rest of it. Awards shows are like races for her. She takes them as a challenge, you know? She actually enjoys how crazy it can get."

Matthew nodded and smiled. His smile wavered slightly as he looked across the room.

"Speaking of crazy…" he mumbled. "That's Tony."

Alex looked in the same direction and saw a tall, lanky man with slightly curly dark brown hair and a full beard approach them. He was wearing a non-descript olive shirt and khaki trousers.

"Be nice," Alex warned.

"Why is it everyone always tells me that?" Matthew replied quietly.

"Matthew!" Tony said warmly, smiling and shaking his hand when he reached him. "How are you? Didn't expect to run into you here!"

"Tony," Matthew said politely, nodding his head and taking his hand back. "This is my friend, Alex Lewis. He's a financier with the studios. Alex, Tony Foyle."

Alex and Tony nodded to each other before Tony turned his attention back to Matthew.

"Do you live in LA now? Here showing up for the homefront, are you?" Tony asked warmly.

"I live up in Toronto, actually. Came down for some meetings and just going to make an appearance tomorrow," Matthew explained.

"Right, right. I'm here for _The Walking Dead_. We were up for a few of the creative awards from the other night. I'm moving to Toronto in the New Year, actually," Tony said.

"Yeah, for _Paladin_ , right?" Matthew asked.

Alex looked at him curiously but said nothing.

"Yeah, that's it," Tony said, smiling. "It'll be good fun to work with Mary. Henry, well, that's another story."

Matthew smiled.

"Anyway, glad that I ran into you. I have to go see where Mabel's gone off to. Come and find me before you head out, yes?" Tony said, not bothering to wait for a reply before he walked off.

"Okay, you're right. He is a douche," Alex admitted. "He doesn't know about you and Mary, apparently."

"Most people don't, to be fair," Matthew said. "He still assumes that we haven't been in touch since we broke up years ago. No need to correct him, really."

"All right, let's go see what drinks they're serving at this tea," Alex stated.

"Non-alcoholic for you," Matthew joked. "You need to preserve as many of your swimmers as you can. The Lewis family name depends on it."

"You had to go and make it weird," Alex complained, shaking his head as they moved towards the bar.

 **Primetime Emmy Awards, Microsoft Theater, Los Angeles, California, USA, Sunday, September 18, 2016**

Mary looked out the window of the car, the scenery unchanged since the last time she checked a few minutes ago. LA traffic had them moving at a crawl towards the venue, which was fine because she was in a procession of cars carrying other nominees and guests, including Henry, who was somewhere up ahead, and Matthew, who was further on still. She had grown used to the delays and constant waiting that made up these nights, so rather than be upset about it, she just sat still and looked out the window with resigned indifference.

Anna smiled sympathetically from the other side of the backseat. They were ahead of schedule leaving the hotel, so this added travel time wouldn't change anything. The car was comfortably air conditioned and there was plenty of water and energy bars to go around. Mary looked gorgeous in her white and black Oscar de la Renta gown, a few hundred thousand dollars' worth of diamond jewellery on her fingers, wrists and ears. The stylist and her team had really outdone themselves, the gorgeous dress contrasting well with Mary's pale skin and her newly coloured auburn hair swept to one side. Taking out her phone, she texted her husband to see where he was in the queue, hoping Mary's mood would improve a little.

* * *

"Anna says they're stuck, about 45 minutes away," Alex announced, swiping his finger over the screen as he replied to his wife.

"They'll be a while yet. Ask her how Mary's doing. She's probably not pleased," Matthew said, playing with the armrest and looking out the window.

"She says that she's fine, just wants to get to the hall," Alex relayed.

"That makes two of us," Matthew said.

* * *

"How did Matthew look before he left?" Mary asked suddenly, still looking out the window.

"Hmm?" Anna asked, looking at her curiously. "Oh, he looked great. I took a photo for you."

Mary finally looked away from the window as she turned to see Anna's phone. He had left their suite early this morning, getting out of her way before her stylist and team showed up. She was still asleep when he kissed her goodbye and wished her well. It seemed that she'd gone the entire day getting ready and attending to this detail and that obligation, never even having a free moment to text him. He'd gotten changed and ready in Alex and Anna's hotel room, and had left with Alex well before her.

She looked at him in the photo, a sheepish smile on his face, his hair with a touch of gel to keep it in place. The suit fit him perfectly, tapering from his broad shoulders and chest down to his waist. The black bow tie was rather traditional, but looked good on him, and his pocket square was white with black trim, a bit of a cheeky secret between them. The colours matched her gown.

"He cleaned up quite well, didn't he?" she remarked, smiling wanly and nodding before she looked out the window again.

Anna frowned at Mary's subdued reaction.

"He seemed a bit overwhelmed with the whole red carpet and all that," Anna noted. "I told him to just follow the staff and it'll be over in no time."

"Exactly," Mary agreed. "He'll do fine."

Anna thought for a moment, then texted her husband again while Mary kept looking out the window.

* * *

"Anna says Mary's 'nervous and tense'," Alex announced, reading the text message. "She says maybe you should text her to make her feel better."

Matthew frowned and looked at Alex's phone. "Yeah, of course. She'll be fine."

"I thought she kept saying she was just happy to be here and that being nominated was good enough?" Alex said as Matthew took out his phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

"That's Maryspeak for 'I really want to win'," Matthew explained. "She has to pretend as if she's just happy to be here, but it bothers her that Henry's already won before and she hasn't. It's not like he does anything particularly better than she does on the show. But he's the one who's gotten all the recognition and awards."

"Yeah, I don't know why he won that one year either," Alex admitted. "So what are you going to say to Mary?"

"I don't know…just get her talking, I guess," Matthew replied. "She's not really one for the rah-rah type of motivational speeches…the whole 'today I feel good…I have a lot to be proud of…' bullshit like that won't make her feel better, or calm her nerves."

"No, no, don't say any of that. I was thinking of something more creative," Alex said.

"Like what?" Matthew asked, focused on his phone.

Alex smiled and swiped across his phone screen, opening an app, then showing it to Matthew.

Matthew lifted his head and glanced over. His eyes went wide before he frowned and shook his head. "Oh, hell no. That's not a good idea."

"Why not?" Alex asked, smiling in amusement.

"Because! Because it's stupid, and juvenile, and not the thing you do when you're on your way to the Emmys?" Matthew babbled.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Just text her and remind her she's got lots to be proud of. That's exactly what anyone else would do. It's nice, and generic, and safe," Alex said. "You're just her boyfriend. No need to stand out from the rest."

Matthew quirked his eyebrow, then sighed. "All right, fine. You really are a horrible influence, you know that?"

"Why does everyone always tell me that?" Alex mused, laughing as he swiped across his phone screen.

* * *

Mary's phone vibrated. She didn't bother looking at it. She kept her phone in her clutch and was going to ignore it for most of the evening. Anna would deal with taking photos and posting to social media and dealing with things like making sure their driver knew where they needed to be picked up later and so forth. The last thing she needed was to be caught on camera during the ceremony looking down at her phone as an audience of millions watched on.

"It's from Matthew," Anna said, taking out Mary's phone and looking at the screen.

"What did he say? Has he arrived yet?" Mary asked listlessly.

Anna opened the message, then blinked in surprise. Her mouth opened in shock and she quickly touched the screen to close the message. "Uh, I think you're going to want to see this."

Mary looked away from the window and frowned as she took the phone from her assistant. "Why? What is it? He didn't send me another photo of a palm tree or something, did he?"

"No, not quite," Anna said, smirking as Mary opened the text message. "It's a video, actually."

Mary pressed the play button on the video message and Matthew's face filled the screen. Alex was obviously recording the video as the camera was aimed from the other side of the car. As she watched, a heavy bass beat suddenly played from her speakers.

"What in the…?" she said, frowning before she was stunned speechless.

Matthew turned to look directly at the camera, bobbing his head back and forth in time to the beat as the 90's rap song, _California Love_ , by 2Pac played in the background. While she tried to process that, her eyebrows arched almost to the top of her forehead when Matthew started lip synching.

 _'Shake, shake it, baby, shake, shake it…shake, shake it, Mama. Shake it, Cali…'_

 _'Out on bail, fresh out of jail, California dreamin'. Soon as I step on the scene, I'm hearing hoochies screaming. Feenin' for money and alcohol, the life of a Westside player where cowards die, and it's all ball. Only in Cali where we riot, not rally to live and die. In LA we wear Chucks, not Bally's, that's right. Dressed in Locs and khaki suits and ride is what we do. Flossin', but have caution, we collide with other crews…'_

Mary's eyes were about to pop out of her head. Not only was Matthew lip synching the rap lyrics with perfect rhythm, but he was also making rather ridiculous facial expressions, frowning and sneering in the most bizarrely accurate imitation of a gangster rapper that Mary had ever seen. Just before the video ended, he blew her a kiss while the chorus ran on.

"Oh my God," Mary exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand as she stared at her phone.

"That was...brilliant…" Anna said, smiling and shaking her head. "What do you think that's all about?"

"He's playing with me, is what he's doing," Mary said slowly, her eyes narrowing. She suddenly looked up and called out to their driver. "David, can you turn off the radio, please?"

"Yes, Lady Mary," the driver replied, and the jazz music that they had been listening to was promptly shut off.

"Why did you do that?" Anna asked in confusion.

"Get out your phone and get ready to record a video," Mary ordered, opening up her audio player on her phone and scrolling through her song library. "No one challenges Lady Mary Crawley to a lip synch battle and gets away without receiving a sound trouncing."

Anna shook her head and laughed as she opened her camera app.

"Ready?" Mary asked, raising her chin and smiling wickedly as she turned in her seat to face Anna.

"Ready," Anna said, pointing the camera at Mary.

"It's over for you, Matthew Crawley," Mary declared, pressing 'Play' on her phone.

* * *

Matthew looked at his phone nervously, stroking his chin with his free hand.

"Calm down," Alex said.

"I never should have let you convince me to do that," Matthew mumbled yet again. "She'll hate it. This is a huge night for her and the last thing she needs is for me to distract her with some childish game."

"She needs to relax, you said so yourself," Alex reminded him. "Come on, Mary loves music, and she'll get a big laugh out of your performance, trust me."

"I don't think so. I think she's going to be angry. She…" he began before the buzzing of his phone interrupted him.

"What did she say?" Alex asked lightly as Matthew opened the text.

"It's a video," Matthew said, frowning as he played Mary's video message. He blinked as the camera showed Mary in the backseat of her car, swaying to what he quickly recognized as _Irreplaceable_ by Beyoncé. When the song reached the chorus, Mary looked straight at the camera and sang along, complete with arm gestures, perfectly timed arched eyebrows and even a snap of her fingers.

 _'_ … _got me twisted. You must not know about me, you must not know about me. I can have another you in a minute. Matter of fact, he'll be here in a minute, baby. You must not know about me, you must not know about me. I can have another you by tomorrow, so don't you ever for a second get to thinking you're irreplaceable.'_

"Wow. That is savage," Alex noted, watching the video.

Matthew stared at the screen for a moment, then grinned before he started laughing heartily.

Alex frowned at him.

"I hate to admit it, but you were right," Matthew said, swiping across his phone screen.

"What do you mean? That song isn't very cheerful," Alex noted.

"Exactly. That's her throwing down a challenge. It means Mary wants to play along, which means she's in a good mood. It worked," Matthew said, smiling at his friend.

"Hey, cool," Alex said, relaxing a bit. "There, see? Told you it would work. You're welcome."

"Well, we aren't done yet," Matthew announced.

"What do you mean?" Alex asked.

"We're both stuck in traffic and she's feeling playful, so now it's our turn again," Matthew declared.

"Oh man, I've created a monster," Alex muttered, turning on his camera app.

* * *

Mary glanced down as her phone vibrated indicating another message from Matthew. She smiled when she realized it was another video.

"I'm surprised he took your bait," Anna said, leaning in to look as Mary opened the video.

"Don't be fooled. Matthew's quite the showman actually, and ultra-competitive," Mary said, smiling.

"That sounds familiar," Anna noted.

Mary shot her a wry look before they watched the video together. The shot opened with Matthew looking at the camera, his face neutral and unmoving. A song was playing quietly in the background, and as the volume rose, Matthew put his sunglasses on with great ceremony.

"Such a child," Mary said, shaking her head and smiling widely.

 _'Oh-woah, I know that you don't know it but you're fine, so fine…'_ he sang along to _Treasure_ by Bruno Mars. The camera suddenly panned around to Alex, who joined in with an exaggerated tilt of his head and impassioned, soulful fake singing.

 _'Fine, so fine…'_

Anna laughed in surprise.

 _'Oh girl I'm gonna show you when you're mine, all mine…'_ Matthew continued before the camera flipped to Alex again.

 _'Mine, all mine…'_

"See? Told you. So competitive," Mary said, grinning at Matthew's face on the screen.

 _'Treasure! That is what you are. Honey, you're my golden star. I know you can make my wish come true, if you let me treasure you. If you let me treasure you…oh…oh…'_

Mary was already thinking of what song to do next, all thoughts of the Emmys, sitting in traffic, and what might happen tonight easily put aside as she watched Matthew remove his sunglasses and give her a wink at the end of his video.

* * *

Back and forth they went, trading songs from one car to another. Determined not to be outdone by her husband, Anna helped Mary with _Work From Home_ by Fifth Harmony, and Matthew and Alex immediately replied with the classic _It Takes Two_ by Rob Base and D.J. E-Z Rock. By the time Mary had them all in tears of laughter with her rendition of _Better Be Good To Me_ by Tina Turner, Matthew's car had finally arrived at the venue. He sent Mary a quick text, then put his phone away.

"Try and have fun out there, ok?" Alex said, smirking at Matthew.

"The most fun part of the night will be the end of it," Matthew said. "Thanks. See you afterward."

Matthew reached out, slapped hands twice and bumped fists with Alex, then got out of the car, glancing around nervously at the large crowds and waves of media, paparazzi and staff gathered under the bright lights around the red carpet. It was barely even a quarter of the pandemonium it would reach when Mary and the other nominees arrived, but he found it all a bit overwhelming just the same.

"Here we go," he muttered under his breath, buttoning his jacket and stepping forward.

* * *

Mary applauded politely as another jubilant Emmy award winner was ushered off stage. So far, _Paladin_ had won the Emmy for Outstanding Directing for a Drama Series, in addition to the two Creative Arts Emmys from last weekend. It was a great showing for everyone, but the major awards were yet to come. Henry's category was coming up, followed by hers, and, as per tradition, the Emmy for Outstanding Drama Series would end the ceremony.

"Getting nervous?" Henry asked her, smiling as he reached over and put his hand over hers.

"No. Are you?" she replied sweetly, smiling at him as she covered his hand with hers, then delicately removed it from her thigh. The smug bastard knew they had cameras on them all the time, and as usual he was taking plenty of liberties. In addition to putting his arm around her waist here and there as they walked the red carpet and did their interviews, he had stood rather close to her when they went up together to present the Emmy for Outstanding Limited Series. She was used to it, of course, but that didn't make it any easier to bear, particularly when she knew Matthew was out in the audience watching.

She had caught a glimpse of him briefly as she walked towards the microphone to present. He was smiling at her encouragingly, his eyes warm and comforting. He was actually sitting rather close, tucked a few rows behind Gwen and her cast, on the other side of the Orchestra from where she was sitting. She was glad he was here, despite everything. She might not be able to see him until the parties later on, but if this was going to be her big night, she wanted to share it with him in some way.

"I don't get nervous," Henry said, drawing her attention again. "I'm just sorry that I'll be backstage receiving congratulations from the press when your category comes up."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and just turned away from him and back to the stage.

* * *

"Watch the show," Anna hissed, keeping her eyes facing forward as she felt her husband's gaze upon her.

Alex leaned towards her, his breath warm against her neck. "I am, love."

She smirked, biting her lower lip to stop herself from grinning widely. After seeing Mary through the red carpet and inside to her seat, she retreated to the back rows along with the other assistants and those deemed not important enough to be seen on camera. Alex was waiting for her when she arrived. She left to go backstage to check in when it was Mary's turn to present but otherwise spent the ceremony with him. Now, nearing the end, she waited anxiously for the final categories of the evening.

"I'm working," she said firmly, trying again to admonish him, knowing full well it wouldn't work. "And you're staring."

"I think I'm well past the point of staring," he said easily, looking down at the low neck of her bodice. "I'm into full-on leering now."

"Stop it," she said, turning to look at him knowingly. "I knew there was a reason you bought me this dress."

"No one said you had to choose this particular one," he replied. When Mary received her Emmy nomination months ago, Anna planned her outfits for this weekend. Though she was only an assistant, she would be attending all the same events. Normally, Anna would bring her own clothes, and she had no lack of options. However, Alex arranged for a stylist friend of theirs to dress her properly. After trying on numerous gowns, she chose a black sleeveless Stella McCartney dress that hugged her petite figure but still allowed her to walk briskly without issue.

She gave him a wry frown, then kept looking up to the stage, not resisting when he reached over and took her hand.

"So if _Paladin_ wins, do you get to go up on stage?" he asked.

"No, of course not," she said quietly.

"So we can celebrate on our own, then?" he suggested.

"Nice try. I'm hoping that I'll be backstage with Mary watching her talk to the press with her trophy in hand," she answered.

"She really wants this badly, doesn't she?" he asked.

She looked at him pointedly. "What do you think? She's been nominated before. She's past the point of going through all of this just to be mentioned. A win would be huge for her career. It would put her in an entirely different class."

Alex smiled as he watched his wife look back up to the stage, knowing she was glancing over in the direction to where Mary was seated. He silently hoped that Mary did win tonight, not just for her sake, but for Anna's as well.

* * *

Matthew fought back the urge to check his phone. The ceremony was into its last stages, and he reminded himself he was getting closer to the finish. If he had been sitting near the back, where he was originally assigned, then he would be checking sports scores, browsing the internet, or whatever. Sitting a few rows from the front, behind the nominees required that he pay far more attention.

The first hour or so had been quite intriguing for him. Sitting here amongst Hollywood glitterati, he could observe them without detection or deterrence. It was strange seeing so many familiar faces from television all glammed up in their designer dresses and black tie. He noticed numerous people ducking out for smoke breaks whenever they could, others who couldn't sit still, and a few who seemed utterly bored with the entire thing. He already knew that the industry wasn't nearly as polished as it was made out to be, but witnessing tonight's organized chaos was enlightening all the same.

His eyes wandered far to his left where he made out the back of Mary's head. He could see her long newly auburn hair swept to one side, revealing her bare shoulders and sparkling diamond earrings. The Harry Winston diamonds that she had been loaned for tonight were worth more than he was, he thought wryly. It only added to the absurdity of the evening.

He felt rather proud of himself for feeling so amused by it all, actually. He always claimed that he didn't go into acting for nights like these, or for the recognition that came with being nominated or winning awards. That was easily said when he was just another outsider looking in, though. Now having stolen into their world, it was a relief that he hadn't been dazzled by any of it. He wanted Mary to win, and he wanted Henry to lose, and he was pleased that Gwen's show had already taken a number of gongs. But ultimately none of this affected him that much, didn't mean very much to him at all, which pleased him immensely.

* * *

"Kiefer Sutherland will be presenting the award," Rosamund whispered, leaning over towards Mary. "Once he's introduced, the camera will cut to each nominee. You're the first one, so you need to be smiling from the moment he comes out on stage. You'll already be in the shot when they state your name, so when they do, nod politely. You'll need to applaud all the other nominees, and remember to look shocked if you win."

Mary simply nodded, though she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Obviously, she knew what was required. Not only had she been through this before, but Aunt Rosamund had run her through the exact same routine back then also. She was almost grateful when Alison Janney was introduced and came out to present the Emmy for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama Series – Henry's category. Aunt Rosamund became quiet as the tall actress said her piece leading up to introducing the nominees.

"What will you do for me if I win?" Henry whispered, leaning over and smiling at Mary.

She turned to him and smiled back. "Nothing. Whether you win or not won't change how I feel on that subject."

"Careful, darling. You don't want to pass up a chance to give a two-time Emmy winner a proper kiss," he replied, grinning just as they announced his name.

Mary held his gaze and kept smiling. She knew he had orchestrated it so that the camera would see them whispering to each other when they panned to him, but she had to play her part. Finally, after several seconds which felt much longer, they both looked up as Alison Janney opened the envelope containing the winner's name.

"And the Emmy goes to…Henry Talbot, _Paladin_."

Henry turned back to Mary and grinned. She kept her eyes on his as he reached over and took her hand and brought it up to his lips. She knew the false tender moment was being broadcast all over the world. She knew Matthew could see it on the video screen onstage. Her stomach churned as he released her and all the _Paladin_ cast and crew applauded while Henry made his way to the aisle and up to the stage. She sat back down when he accepted his Emmy and turned to hold it up to the audience in victory. The camera would be on her shortly for her reaction if it wasn't already, and so she kept on smiling, as though this was proudest moment of her life.

"Wow. Thank you. Thank you so much," Henry said, gazing lovingly down at the trophy, then looking out to the crowd. His words and mannerisms seemed so genuine, so spontaneous, and yet she knew he had rehearsed them over and over before coming over. Every 'umm' and 'gosh' was deliberately placed, the way he looked at the first few rows when he thanked his fellow nominees was preplanned, the toothy grin he showed when he thanked the Academy and his ' _Paladin_ family' timed to the second.

"To go to work with an absurdly gifted cast, a great crew, and I have to thank my incredible writers. It's a privilege to bring Frederick to life every episode," he gushed.

 _'So privileged that I can't wait to get away from all of you and move on,'_ she thought with disdain, though her smile never wavered.

"Thank you. God bless," he finished, walking off briskly as applause and music swelled all around them.

She didn't have time to even roll her eyes as her heartbeat sped up slightly. Her category was up next.

* * *

Matthew took a deep breath, joining his hands together in front of him as though he was praying, and in a way, he was. Kiefer Sutherland walked out on stage to present the Emmy for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series – Mary's category – and he felt his heart beating faster.

One thing about the business that he had learned very early on was just how fleeting it was. Today's hot actor was tomorrow's unemployed has-been. Awards shows were microcosms of this phenomenon. If you weren't nominated, you had no reason to be here and weren't even invited, despite all that you may have achieved in your career. One of Matthew's favourite all-time shows was the American drama series _Mad Men_. It's star, Jon Hamm, finally won an Emmy last year on his 16th nomination. From 2008 onward, spanning a period of 8 consecutive years, he was a regular at the Emmys, nominated every year. He showed up in his custom-made suit, walked the red carpet, smiled and waved, sat through the entire show, heard his name called and only got to go up on stage and accept an award one time, last year when the show ended.

He wasn't even here this year.

Mary didn't need to win to be a brilliant actress in his eyes. Win or lose, they would go out tonight, then fly back to Toronto and get back to work on _Shattered_. An Emmy award would not tangibly change her life, at least not right away. He didn't put any real value in whether she won, or not. But he knew that she did.

Emmy winners had a cachet in an industry where cachet was everything. If Mary won, she would be forever known as an Emmy winner, and other awards would likely follow. This meant better scripts, better roles, better opportunities, instant validation and eternal consideration by the powerful and influential. In a business where everyone was always looking to move on to the next big thing, winning an Emmy kept an actress in the conversation. Given that women were evaluated on their looks and age far more harshly than men, having an award was the hammer that Mary needed to bust through the glass ceiling.

He applauded heartily when Mary's name was read first on the list of nominees, her polite smile filling the video screen on the stage. He knew she was nervous too. Her life could change in a few moments. He tried not to think about just how different her future would be if she won, just what kind of impact such an accomplishment would have on her, on them. He was determined to live in the moment, and her moment was here.

"Come on," he muttered as Kiefer Sutherland opened the envelope.

"Come on," Anna whispered, squeezing Alex's hand.

Mary kept the same smile on her face that she'd shown Henry, her hands gripping the armrests of her seat. Her pulse might have stopped in the seconds before the winner was announced.

"And the Emmy goes to…Tatiana Maslany."

 **HBO Emmys After-Party, Plaza at the Pacific Design Center, West Hollywood, Los Angeles, California, USA, Sunday, September 18, 2016**

Catherine finished another flute of champagne and passed it off to a server walking past. She raised her arms above her head and danced to the music for a while before making her way through the crowd and back towards the _Paladin_ table. Though they had lost the Emmy for Outstanding Drama Series to _Game of Thrones_ , she was still having an absolute blast. This was the first time she'd been allowed to tag along to one of these posh do's, and it was hilarious to her how everywhere she turned, there was more. More free drinks, more free food, more free gifts, more swag, more everything. She almost didn't care who won or lost. This trip had already been a huge success for her based on the comps alone.

She plucked another champagne flute on her way to the table. Sipping it quickly, she paused to look at the crowd gathered around their table, no one standing anymore as everyone came and went, mingling, laughing and drinking. No one was drowning their sorrows, or at least they were doing a very good job of appearing cheerful if they were. Henry and Mary were of course at the centre of it all. He held his Emmy in one hand and his other was firmly on Mary's waist. Catherine sighed sympathetically for her friend. She was smiling and appeared just as happy as everyone else, but Catherine knew better. Not only had she not won, but she also had to spend the night paying homage to Henry with the rest of them. Catherine was happy they weren't filming again until next year. Maybe Henry's ego would return to almost tolerable levels by then, though she wouldn't hold her breath over it.

"Honestly, I thought Rami was going to win. That's such a funny little show he's got," Henry joked as Catherine re-joined them. "I might have to push the writers to let me narrate a little bit in the next season."

His poor jest was met by the requisite laughter. Mary smiled and nodded, making no move to leave his grasp. Photographers and gossip bloggers continued to mill about, and Henry wasn't intent on releasing her just yet. Since she lost, the night had grown progressively worse, and she was resigned to playing her part for a while longer. It was difficult to blame Henry for making the most of the opportunity. She had helped create this façade with him, after all, had even used him for her purposes before. He was now returning the favour. He was the victor this night, and she was part of his spoils.

Aunt Rosamund was elated. Despite Mary not winning her category, she was still getting loads of publicity. Henry had mentioned her no less than six times during his press conference, even going so far as to say his award was a 'win' for both of them. At the Governors Ball earlier, he brought her with him to see his trophy engraved. They had shown up at the HBO after-party together, as planned, and when he leaned towards her on the red carpet, she dutifully turned and kissed his cheek. That photo went viral within minutes, Henry standing tall and proud, golden Emmy statuette raised in triumph, with her lips pressed to his face in tribute. Their somewhat obscure hashtag – Marbot – was trending in the top 10 on social media.

Professionally, it was actually rather smart what she was doing, keeping herself front and centre by grabbing some of Henry's limelight. Still though, it also underscored the hierarchy that she was so desperate to break free of – that Henry was the lead, the alpha, the star, and she was just his co-star, or something worse. As she continued to smile and laugh and perform for the cameras, she hoped that time was moving far faster than it seemed to be.

* * *

"Do you want to touch it?" Gwen teased, holding her Emmy out to Matthew. "Go on. Have a feel."

He smirked at her, then held her trophy for a few seconds before passing it back. She put it down on the table and turned back to him.

"It's heavier than I thought it would be," he noted, before smiling and kissing her cheek. "Brilliant, Gwen, really. Just brilliant."

"Thanks," she said warmly. "And you look absolutely gorgeous. I saw some of your red carpet photos. Seems that some of the media were a bit besotted with you, weren't they?"

"No, not at all," he said, shaking his head. "I was just one of the first to come through. They used me to test the lighting and camera angles. They didn't even know who I was."

"Well, they'll know soon enough," she said confidently.

"Liar. But thanks anyway," he laughed.

"Well, hello!" Sophie called, coming over and putting her arm around Matthew's shoulders.

Gwen and Matthew exchanged wry smiles.

"Congratulations," he said kindly.

"Oh thank you, thank you!" Sophie said, nodding her head. "Have you seen my new tattoo?"

Matthew glanced at Gwen again, before looking at Sophie's extended forearm.

"It's the date that I booked the show – August 7, 2009," she explained. "Maisie's got one too."

"Ah," he said, nodding his head. "I like it. It's not overly noticeable but still there."

"Yeah, Mum begged me not to get it in black," she explained, laughing merrily. "Originally, the whole cast was going to get matching tattoos when we finished the series."

"But we don't actually know who's going to make it through to the end and who isn't," Gwen added.

"Ah, right. That's very true," he noted.

"So Maisie and I just decided to do it now before the next series airs," Sophie finished.

"Good thinking," he remarked.

"I thought so," she said smugly, her arm still draped around him. "Buy me a drink?"

"You're not legal yet, are you?" he asked, looking at her in amusement. "I'll get you a Coke."

She laughed and swatted his chest. "Gwen said you were a bit of a boy scout!"

"Did she, now?" he said, giving his old friend a pointed look.

Gwen just smiled.

"Oh, don't worry. I quite like boy scouts. They act all proper but there's usually far more to them beneath the nice exterior," Sophie drawled.

"I'll take that as a compliment, then," he said.

"Please do," she replied, looking at him intently.

* * *

"She hasn't given me the signal to come save her yet, so that means she's fine," Anna said, leaning in so Alex could hear her better. "She can handle him anyway."

"I have no doubt, but the longer Mary plays this game, the longer you have to stay, which means the longer I have to stay, and I want to leave," Alex whinged.

She smiled and caressed his face. "Sorry, babes. You knew it was going to be a long night."

"I was hoping it would be a long night for entirely different reasons," he grumbled.

She laughed and kissed him lightly. "You're funny when you're impatient, you know?"

He frowned and gave her a rueful glance. "I just hope Matthew's having a better time than I am."

"I hope so too," she agreed, sighing tiredly. "He's not going to enjoy seeing all the photos of them online. Mary's already made everyone's Best Dressed lists, but there will be plenty of talk about her and Henry for a while."

"Are they or aren't they? There's too much chemistry between them for there not to be something going on offscreen! They're awfully close for two people who are just friends!" he exclaimed, feigning breathless enthusiasm.

"You're hilarious, babes," she said sarcastically. "It's all part of the game, nothing more."

"I know that. But I wouldn't take very kindly to you having a pretend boyfriend, that's for sure," he said resolutely.

"Well let's just hope that Matthew isn't as petty and possessive as you are," she said lightly, kissing him again.

"If I was petty and possessive then I would order my wife back to our hotel room right now," he said firmly. "But I'm not, even though I want to."

She grinned at his petulant frown. "You do know how to sweet talk a girl, don't you?"

"I won't apologize for preferring to have hot, wild sex with my wife over sitting around in a room full of people who are all way too full of themselves," he countered.

"Hot and wild?" she questioned, smiling at him playfully. "Careful, babes. You're setting the bar very high for yourself, and I'm not drinking, so I'll be completely able to see if you're all talk, or not."

"Try me," he said, looking at her seriously.

She kissed him lightly, then patted his knee. "Just a while longer."

He sighed in exasperation and took another sip of his sparkling water.

* * *

Mabel sipped her champagne, looking across the room at Mary and Henry and their entourage. Her eyes narrowed before she finally looked away and checked her phone.

"How much longer do you want to stay?" Tony asked, looking down at her.

"Not much longer," she replied. "It's been a fun night."

"You're obviously pleased that Mary didn't win," he remarked.

"It wasn't that important to me either way, but I was glad. She didn't deserve it. She was only nominated because of the popularity of the show," she said.

"And now that you've seen her and Henry together, is everything still on track?" he asked.

"Quite," she answered, smiling up at him. "It's all going swimmingly."

He nodded to her. When she went back to looking at her phone, he looked across the room, his eyes falling on Mary once more.

* * *

"We're going to head out to the Jimmy Kimmel party once I go to the little boys' room," Henry said, smiling at Mary as he whispered in her ear. "I'll be right back."

She turned and smiled at him, keeping her voice low so none of the partygoers around them would hear. "I'm done, Henry. The Governors Ball and one after-party. That was the plan."

"What will I tell the media when they ask me where you are, though?" he said playfully. "Come on, darling. The night is still young."

"Say I'm waiting for you back at the hotel for all I care," she said, her smile turning thin. "I'm not going with you."

"I thought we could watch the sun come up together," he said wickedly.

"From the terrace of your bedroom, no doubt," she complained.

"It's a bit chilly in the early morning, but I'll give it a go if you will," he said easily.

"Good night, Henry. Congratulations again," she said.

"Really, Mary?" he chided her. "It's my big night. We should celebrate."

"I think I've done more than my share already. Besides, don't you think it's a bit disingenuous to be soaking up all this adulation when you're about to leave the show?" she asked.

"You can change my mind. There's still time," he said.

Before she could retort, he kissed her cheek and headed off to the washroom.

* * *

Matthew finished drying his hands and walked briskly from the washroom and down the hall back towards the party. He had finally managed to extricate himself from Sophie and her repeated suggestions to head to a 'more private party'. During his time hanging out with Gwen and Sophie, he'd managed to meet a number of executives, agents, producers and other well-wishers who flocked to them to offer their congratulations. He could barely remember names or faces, but he had collected a few business cards, and that made him feel a bit pleased nonetheless. He wasn't just waiting for Mary to be done with her obligations. He had used the after-party to actually do something sort of, kind of, productive.

"Ah, Matthew."

He looked up and blinked as Henry's stood before him, smiling, not surprisingly.

"Henry," Matthew said tightly. "Congratulations."

"Thanks, thanks," Henry replied easily. "You know, I thought that I might not be as excited as when I won my first one. The whole 'been there, done that' thing. But, actually, it feels even better to win my second. It's sort of like I expected this one and I got it, and that is incredibly satisfying."

Matthew nodded, biting back what he really wanted to say.

"Anyway, so I'm going to head to another party. Mary's coming along, of course. You can hang out here for a while, then just go back to your hotel. She'll be by sometime after dawn, I imagine," he said.

"Another party?" Matthew questioned, looking at him in confusion. "I thought this was the last stop of the evening."

"Well, you know how it is. Everyone wants the winners to attend their parties, so you end up getting more invitations as the night goes along," he said easily.

"Funny how she didn't mention anything when these new invitations came in," Matthew noted.

"Well, she's been terribly busy. We've had all these people coming up to us offering their congratulations, taking photos. It's like we're at our wedding, or something!" he said, laughing heartily. "Anyway, just wanted you to know."

"Thanks," Matthew replied. "I'll just double check with her to make sure everything's good."

Henry shook his head. "You just don't get it, do you? You don't belong here, Matthew. Hasn't this night taught you that? You're just weighing Mary down, holding her back. Is this the life you want? To always be in the background waiting until she comes and fetches you to go? One of these nights, she just might not remember to collect you. She might just go off and do what she wants and just leave you behind."

Matthew stared at his grinning face for a moment, then gave him a smile of his own.

"You must really be gutted that she'd rather be with me than you," Matthew said, chuckling at him. "Two-time Emmy winner Henry Talbot and the one woman he couldn't get. Well, I'll let you in on a little secret, Henry. You see, Mary can leave anytime she wants. She can go off and do whatever she wants with whoever she wants. I would never hold her back from her career, from finding a better man, from anything, really. I don't own her, Henry, and I don't want to, and she knows that. She knows that all she needs to do is say the word and I'll let her go. I wouldn't be happy about it, but I would do it if she asked me to. So, I suppose it's rather illuminating that tonight, on your triumphant, all-conquering night, she hasn't told me anything about these supposed plans of yours, or told me how eager she is to tag along with you, isn't it?"

Henry sneered, his lip curling slightly. "Enjoy it while it lasts. She'll be done with you soon enough, and your career will be finished before it even started. You'll be working at a Starbucks somewhere telling anyone who will listen about the actor that you never were."

"It's a definite possibility," Matthew agreed with a smile. "That's why I'm enjoying every second that I have left. Have a good night, Henry. Enjoy that party."

Matthew patted Henry on the shoulder as he walked past him. Henry shoved his arm away before continuing on to the bathroom in a much surlier mood.

* * *

Mary kissed Alex on both cheeks, then hugged Anna gratefully.

"All right you two, get out of here," Mary declared.

"Are you sure you're all set?" Anna asked cautiously.

"Go," Mary ordered, smirking at her knowingly. "I'm just going to find Matthew and we'll be on our way. I'll be fine."

"We'll see you in the morning for breakfast," Anna said, nodding her head.

"Better make it lunch. I expect that we'll have a bit of a sleep-in," Mary said.

Alex and Anna left her and made their way through the still crowded hall to the exit.

"Hey Anna!"

Anna stopped and turned at the sound of her name. She smiled as Alex Green came through the crowd to greet her.

"I was hoping I'd run into you," Green said, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

"Sadly I'm on my way out," she replied. "We've had it for the night."

"Of course, of course. Too bad about Lady Mary. I really was hoping she would win," Green said.

"Thanks. We all were, too," she said.

"Oh, and you must be the husband!" Green said, smiling as Alex appeared behind her. "Alex Green."

"Right, the assistant to Tony Foyle,' Alex said, nodding his head and shaking Green's offered hand.

"The same. Anna really took care of me on my last visit. I'm hoping things go just as well next month when I come up," Green said, smiling at Anna.

"You can't go wrong in her hands," Alex said.

"Quite right," Green said.

"Well, it was good to see you. Good night," Anna said. She took her husband's hand and pulled him on towards the exit.

Green smiled and watched them leave, his eyes ignoring the husband and remaining on Anna until she disappeared down the hall.

 **Sunset Boulevard, West Hollywood, Los Angeles, California, USA, Sunday, September 18, 2016**

Mary rested her head on Matthew's shoulder, his fingers playing with hers as the car made its way down the street. The skirt of her designer dress was fanned out beneath her, her heels discarded on the floor. The night was catching up to her, and yet she wasn't tired. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, the quiet of the car most welcome after she had to endure the cackling of fake laughter, false compliments and Henry's arrogant voice for so long tonight.

"Here we are, Mr. Crawley," the driver announced.

"Thanks," Matthew replied. He reached over and lowered the window.

"Where are we? This isn't the hotel," Mary asked, looking out the window.

"Just a little stopover. Come on," he said confidently.

He helped her back into her shoes and out of the car. When she stood up straight on the kerb, she blinked in surprise. Staring back at her from its prominent place a little ways up the hill in front of them was a giant billboard. Her own serious face was staring back at them, dominating the sign. The _Paladin_ title and logo were also displayed, but this was one of the rare advertisements that featured her alone, without Henry or anyone else.

"I caught sight of it when Alex and I were out for our ride yesterday," he explained.

"I knew they did things like this, but I never bothered to seek them out after that first season. That year, I would see my face on bus queues and magazine ads and I'd squeal like a child. Now, I guess I don't find it that impressive anymore," she mumbled, taking a step forward.

"But it is impressive when you stop and think about it. Think of the thousands, even millions of people who'll see it when they drive by between now and the premiere. Think of everyone who looks up at your photo and wishes they could be you, wishes they had a life like yours. It's something to be proud of, darling, even now, even still."

"Mmm," she said thoughtfully, smiling as his arm went around her bare shoulders.

"I thought you should have won, by the way. I'm rather biased, but still," he admitted.

"I thought I should have won as well. I'm a sore loser for saying it, but it felt horrible to have to smile and applaud as if I was happy about the entire thing. Tatiana's great, but I really thought this was my turn. Rather foolish of me, really," she said softly.

"It's all right, darling. You're allowed to be angry, bitter, whatever," he said.

"No, it's not all right. I've spent years trying to do everything right - to not just do good work, but to build my image, my profile, my brand. Throwing everything into appeasing people I don't even know, even ignoring my own boyfriend to associate myself with a fucking ungrateful little bitch of a man. I shouldn't care whether I win awards or not, or care about what other people think of me. But I'm afraid that I do. All the planning and strategizing and what has it gotten me, really? I'm getting my comeuppance, aren't I? Invited to the ceremony and all the parties, but known more for being Henry's supposed lover than anything else," she said tightly.

"Darling, no. This is your moment and yours alone. You're a successful, Emmy-nominated, brilliant actress. Just think of how far you've come if not winning seems like a disappointment for you. So many people would love to just be allowed into the ceremony, let alone have their name read out. And it is okay to be angry. It's okay to be and feel whatever you want. Win or lose, succeed or fail, this is your moment, and you're allowed to own it, and laugh, yell, scream, dance, get drunk, anything, anything you want. You don't need to behave a certain way for me, or for your aunt Rosamund, or for Henry, or for the Academy. You need only be you. That's all I want for you," he said.

"I wonder, at moments like this, if I'll ever be satisfied? If I'll ever allow myself to be…happy…instead of just thinking about what could have been, whatever it is I think I'm missing?" she wondered.

"You are happy. You'll be happy. I'm sure of it," he said.

She finally turned to look at him. "Do you promise? Do you promise to make sure that I am?"

He shook his head and smiled. "Your happiness doesn't depend on me, darling. It doesn't depend on anyone but you. However, yes, I intend to make you very happy."

She smiled and kissed him lightly. "Thank you…for everything. Take me back to our suite. I want to make you happy now."

"Hang on," he said, laughing as he released her to take his phone out. "Give me a photo first."

"Oh Matthew," she said, shaking her head and laughing.

"Go on. Just go and stand over there," he said, nudging her gently.

She rolled her eyes and went to stand in front of her billboard. Matthew smiled in encouragement and she grinned, throwing her hands up enthusiastically as he took the photo.

"That's a great shot," he said, coming over and showing her the photo.

She smiled at it, then put her arm around his waist. "Let's take a selfie."

He raised his phone and adjusted the angle so that they weren't blocking Mary's image. They both smiled widely and he pressed the shutter button on his phone screen.

"Perfect," she announced, the photo meeting with her approval. "Let's go, darling. I've had enough photos for quite a while."

He laughed as she took his hand and led him back to the waiting car.

* * *

 **Song Credits (in order of appearance):**

 **California Love -** 2Pac, (1996), Death Row, Interscope

 **Irreplaceable -** Beyoncé, (2006), Columbia, Sony Urban

 **Treasure -** Bruno Mars, (2012), Atlantic

 **Work From Home -** Fifth Harmony feat. Ty Dolla Sign, (2016), Syco Music

 **It Takes Two -** Rob Base and D.J. E-Z Rock, (1988), Profile

 **Better Be Good To Me -** Tina Turner, (1984), Capitol


	14. Chapter 14

**Previously:**

 **Sunset Boulevard, West Hollywood, Los Angeles, California, USA, Sunday, September 18, 2016**

She smiled and kissed him lightly. "Thank you…for everything. Take me back to our suite. I want to make you happy now."

"Hang on," he said, laughing as he released her to take his phone out. "Give me a photo first."

"Oh Matthew," she said, shaking her head and laughing.

"Come on. Just go and stand over there," he said, nudging her gently.

She rolled her eyes and went to stand in front of her billboard. Matthew smiled in encouragement and took the photo.

"This is really good. Just lovely," he said, coming over and showing her the photo.

She smiled at it, then put her arm around his waist. "Let's take a selfie."

He raised his phone and adjusted the angle so that they weren't blocking Mary's image. They both smiled widely and he took the photo.

"Perfect," she announced, the photo meeting with her approval. "Let's go, darling. I've had enough photos for quite a while."

He laughed as she took his hand and led him back to the waiting car.

 **Chapter 14:**

 **Rodeo View Suite, Beverly Wilshire Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, Monday, September 19, 2016**

Mary set her hair brush down on the marble counter, smiling at her reflection as she reached for the perfume bottle. She dabbed her wrists and rubbed a few drops just below the pulse point on her neck, then smirked as she finished with a touch to her cleavage. Gucci _Premiere_ was Matthew's favourite. Well, essentially any perfume she wore to bed was his favourite, but he did seem to have a rather strong reaction to this one in particular. She arched her eyebrow, wicked thoughts dancing in her mind while she put the stopper back in the bottle.

On the way back to the hotel, they had kissed slowly and leisurely, his tongue playing with hers, his fingers caressing her breast through her gown. It was more languid than heated, both of them knowing they had the rest of the night, and most of tomorrow morning to do anything they wanted. They still kept enough of their wits about them to have the driver let Matthew out a block away so they could enter the hotel separately, the familiar pang of guilt hitting Mary as she rode up in the elevator alone. All of this scheming to keep their relationship a secret seemed particularly stupid now, but she didn't bother dwelling on it. She would make it all up to him soon enough.

Her mind was swirling with different thoughts and emotions, her body feeling buzzed and alive. The initial excitement of the evening, the adulation she received on the red carpet, had given way to nervous anticipation during the ceremony, and crushing disappointment when she lost. She did her best during the after-parties to grin and bear everyone's sympathies, as well as Henry's possessive grip around her waist. The champagne had helped…a lot, and having survived it all, she felt liberated now, free of the pressure to maintain her gracious façade and be who everyone wanted her to be.

The only one left to perform for now was Matthew.

She grinned as she adjusted her bra, the black lace snug and soft against her skin. Turning her body from side to side, she checked that her garters and stockings were straight before putting on her robe. It was a lot of preparation considering that he'd have her naked in seconds, but she didn't mind. This entire day had been spent primping and preening so she would look attractive to the media, the fashion commentators and bloggers, and the millions watching at home. It was fun to finally be able to do herself up now for her own enjoyment.

Picking up the lipstick from the counter, she touched-up her red lips. Smiling in satisfaction, she wiped her mouth lightly with a cloth, pleased with her look. Matthew would be in the mood for it even if she was wearing a garbage bag, but dressing up as a temptress was important to her tonight. She wanted him to be rough, and powerful, to crave her desperately. All day he had been ever so sweet, from giving her plenty of room and not bothering her as she went about her business, to being patient and kind, comforting her in her defeat. He was always so much nicer than she was, so much more patient. He was tender with her despite surely being bothered by how her work had once again pulled her away from him.

But she didn't want tender lovemaking now. She wanted to be taken.

A dark laugh threatened to burst from her chest as she covered her mouth, her eyes bright and playful. The after-parties were predictably full of gorgeous, rich men dressed exquisitely. She enjoyed admiring the eye candy and soaking up their flirtatious compliments. If she wanted to hook up with someone, she easily could, and it was exciting to think about throwing caution to the wind, having a dirty one-night stand with some hunk of a man, celebrity or not, and acting entirely improper. It was tiring having to make all the right choices all the time, avoid the danger and risk of temptation that was all around her. No drugs. No meaningless sex. No reckless behaviour that might hurt her flawless image. It could become stifling, all these rules, especially on nights like these when she lost her award and felt as though all her effort was in vain. Playing it safe seemed so boring and unsatisfying. The lure of getting silly drunk and behaving badly was so very appealing, and if she was single, she might have considered it.

Turning away from the mirror, she shook her head and went to the door. In Matthew she had not only a man who was patient and supportive, but was still more than capable of filling her need for excitement. It was difficult to explain. Given their history, they ought to have grown bored of each other by now, or at least settled into a predictable routine in their sex life that would make a liaison with someone new seem fresh and thrilling. But there was something between them physically that was beyond mere fleeting lust, and unlike anything she'd had with anyone else. Even when they started their arrangement, she thought it was so stupid of her to be sleeping with her ex again, but she couldn't stop herself, and that connection, that feeling they shared had only grown stronger since they'd gotten back together. They could argue for hours, give each other the silent treatment all evening, then have angry sex until dawn. They could work themselves ragged on set, drag their exhausted selves back to her trailer, then instantly be energized for a quick romp in the shower. They could spend a lazy afternoon reading and relaxing, then cuddle up and nap before waking each other up in a very delightful way. He was so in tune with her moods, her desires, knew exactly what she wanted when she wanted it. She could be as shameless as she wanted to with him, without fear or embarrassment. He made her feel safe enough to do and try anything.

She grinned as she opened the door and stepped lightly into the darkened bedroom.

"Mmm, you know, darling, I've been thinking about this all night," she drawled, loosening the tie of her robe as she came over to the King-size bed. "I kept counting the minutes until you brought me back here. I'm so ready for a real…"

She stopped short as she came upon her boyfriend lying on the bed, dressed only in his boxer briefs, head turned to the side on his pillow, hand resting on his stomach, eyes closed.

"…man," she finished, frowning at the sight of him sleeping peacefully.

For several seconds, anger and indignation flared inside of her. She had told him to get in bed and wait for her. He knew she was putting on sexy lingerie just for him, and he fell asleep?!

Soon, though, her pique gave way to a helpless shrug of her shoulders and a light laugh from her lips. The poor thing. He'd worn himself out dutifully following her around tonight, staying far in the background just as ordered. This was supposed to be his reward now, but how could she fault him really? It was because of her that he'd had to wait so long.

Sighing and shaking her head, she took off her robe and climbed on to the bed, kneeling at his side and smiling at him.

"All right, you're forgiven. We can just sleep," she said softly, rolling her eyes. "No promises that I'll ever wear this for you again, though, so you're really missing out."

"Well, we can't have that."

She yelped in surprise as blue eyes flashed open and a toothy smile greeted her. He quickly raised up and grabbed hold of her, easily flipping her on to her back and pinning her arms to her sides. She stared up at him with wild eyes as his smile turned predatory, then moaned when he pressed wet kisses to her neck.

"You honestly thought I would fall asleep when I've been looking forward to this the entire bloody night?" he asked, licking her shoulder. His hands moved down her arms and around to her back. She arched to give him access, groaning loudly as he unsnapped her bra and threw it aside, quickly capturing her breast with his mouth.

"It would have been terribly disappointing of you," she gasped, her eyes closing as she writhed beneath him. His hips pressed deliciously against hers, compelling her to grind against his hard arousal.

"Black lace and Gucci _Premiere_ , hmm? You know what that does to me," he warned, moving from one breast to the other, his lips and tongue sending her soaring.

"What? Show me," she challenged, moaning from his touch.

He laughed as he licked a trail down her flat stomach, then kneeled between her legs and looked down at her with dark intentions. His fingers easily pulled her thong down her legs and tossed the flimsy silk over his shoulder, baring her fully to him.

"The stockings stay on," he ordered, kissing his way down one long leg.

She chuckled and sighed, throwing her leg over his shoulder as he settled between her thighs, placing light kisses everywhere, building her up.

"Don't tease me," she begged, smiling as she knew just what her voice would do to him. "I want it, darling. I want it."

He growled and gave her a long, slow lick that made her grunt through her clenched teeth.

"What do you want?" he asked lightly, his fingers ghosting across her.

"I want you to show me how much better you are than all those clods you saw hovering around me tonight," she hissed, grinning as she heard his answering grunt. "You hate seeing me with them, don't you? You hate seeing me spend time with them when I should be with you, at your side. It should be your arm around my waist, your lips on my cheek, your eyes on mine in front of all the cameras."

He pushed his finger inside of her and she hummed in triumph, spreading her legs for him.

"Show me," she gasped, urging him on. "Show me what you've been wanting to do to me all night."

He snarled and gave her two fingers along with his mouth and tongue. She babbled his name between moans, bucking her hips against him as he drove her determinedly to the edge. Her hands flew down to push his head against her as she cried out and let go, her entire body seeming to tense, then release as pleasure washed over her. He soothed and caressed her through it, finally raising up and removing his shorts while she recovered.

Her hand ran over her gasping face, then covered her flushed chest as she slowly came back down. She finally opened her eyes, seeing him sitting up on his knees, leering at her. Her gaze devoured his body, down his firm chest and gorgeous abs, lingering on his hard length before going back up to his bright eyes. She knew that look, loved what it meant, shivered at the thought of what he had in store for her.

He didn't say a word, merely smirking and raising his eyebrow to her suggestively.

She replied with an eager nod of her head, gracefully rising up towards him and getting on her hands and knees, keeping her eyes on his as she opened her mouth.

"Mary," he struggled, gasping as she took him in, his hand tangling in her hair to pull her towards him. She remained still, letting him guide her, the feel and taste of him stirring her arousal again.

"So good," he sneered, his voice harsh as he thrust harder. She moaned in response, in agreement, in consent, telling him with her eyes and the lurid sounds coming from her throat that he could do whatever he wanted, that he could go faster, harder, rougher. It's all not just allowed, but she wanted it.

There's a moment, or at least there should have been a moment, a pause to reconsider themselves. She's Lady Mary Crawley, elegant, refined, descended from old British acting royalty and even older English aristocracy. She's not supposed to be naked on all fours letting a man use her mouth, and most certainly shouldn't be enjoying it. He's Matthew, kind, courteous and loving, enamoured with her since they were adolescents, always respectful, ever the gentleman. He's not supposed to be clutching her hair, pulling her back and forth, staring at her bare back and her raised ass and contemplating all the wicked things he's currently planning.

Instead, she's already thinking of the dirty words she'll say to him to make him lose control.

Instead, he's already figuring out what position he's going to put her in next.

He pulled out and sat back, tugging her towards him with a touch to her arm.

She grinned and came to him, as slinky as a cat, presenting her breasts to his mouth as she eased herself into position. Their eyes met as his hands took hold of her hips and she draped her arms on his shoulders.

"Fuck me," she whispered, their foreheads touching, eyes locked together.

He grinned and lowered her on to him.

She cried out, closing her eyes and throwing her head back as her hips moved to the rhythm set by his hands, riding him hard. She's not going to last very long, but she expects he will. He teased her with his lips and tongue, his breath hot against her breast. She gasped and whimpered, then called his name as he sent her flying again.

* * *

 _'Can we talk about this gorgeous dress? Oscar de la Renta, of course, and so beautiful on her. I love the black trim and the playful ruffles. Bare shoulders and no cleavage at all, which is just so refreshing. Classy and elegant. Her skin has some colour to it, which we're so not used to seeing from her, and the hair! The touch of red is so perfect. You know, every time we see her, we expect more and more, and she just delivers, that's all there is to it. Easily in my top five Best Dressed for the night. Easily!'_

Mary smiled as she watched the television hosts gush about her look on the red carpet last night. She was a staple on the Best Dressed lists for a while now, but if anything that put more pressure on her every time out. In the early days back home, and even during her first years over here, the bar was rather low because she wasn't as well-known as other actresses, so she could wear whatever she thought looked good and not be so concerned about how she would be judged. Now, it's as though she has a standard to live up to, a level that keeps getting higher. She's glad and relieved that it all came good last night and she and her style team have met the challenge yet again.

"I may not be recognized for my acting, but the consensus is that I still look good in a designer dress and diamonds," she muttered ruefully.

The pillow was soft against her cheek, her robe soft and warm around her as she lay in bed and watched the television. Matthew was still in the shower, washing up. She was right about last night. She woke up feeling sore, but delightfully sated. Her shoulder still ached from when he pulled her arms behind her back a bit too strongly and her bottom still stung. Despite that, she was probably better off than he was. She saw nail marks on his back and bite marks on his thighs in the shower. While she was slightly embarrassed, he wore them proudly like badges of honour. He can be so strangely cute about such things. They rutted like animals last night and he's acting as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

She smiled at the thought. He was probably right.

 _'Now Mary didn't win, unfortunately, losing out on Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series to the amazing Tatiana Maslany. But all was not lost, as she got to celebrate her co-star and rumoured boyfriend Henry Talbot winning his second Lead Actor Emmy for playing Emperor Frederick in their amazing show, Paladin. The gorgeous are they/aren't they couple hit the red carpet at both the Governor's Ball and the HBO Emmys After-Party. We caught them in a tender moment while waiting for Henry's Emmy to be engraved. Here you see him with his hand on her back. At the HBO party, they danced the night away with many of the other winners and nominees. Here they are holding court with other cast members from the show. Now, Henry did show up on his own to Jimmy_ _Kimmel's exclusive after-party, but an inside source tells us that Mary called it a night and that the two of them were very cute and cuddly before she left. Aww….'_

Mary rolled her eyes and shook her head in exasperation. Henry's people obviously planted that story of their supposed PDA during the parties. She knew full well how the media could be used to get one's message out, and she suspected that Aunt Rosamund was all too happy to play along with the standard 'neither confirm or deny' comment that was tantamount to a confirmation as far as the gossip websites and entertainment shows were concerned.

"Tender moment. What utter rubbish," she muttered.

 _'All right, from one Crawley to another. You know, the Emmys are fantastic, but it's a long day, let's be honest. We're there hours in advance to set up, and as people start filtering in on the red carpet, you like to try and meet new faces, see who's there for the first time, and boy did we find a new face! Feast your eyes, ladies. This is Matthew Crawley.'_

Her eyebrow arched in surprise as a clip of Matthew on the red carpet played on the screen. She lifted her head and paid closer attention as the female entertainment reporter began to rave.

 _'You may not have heard of him, but trust me, you will. He's currently filming Shattered with Natalie Dormer and Mary Crawley, coincidentally. That's being directed by Thea Sharrock, the same director who did Me Before You. He's was there last night wearing Armani Privé and looking absolutely beautiful. And, if you think he looks good here, check this out. Today, Armani released their new social media campaign for Armani Code for Men cologne and guess who is in that? Matthew Crawley!'_

She blinked as a photo of Matthew and a blonde haired model filled the screen. The commentators all oohed and aahed, and for good reason. Matthew was leaning against a stone column of some sort, and the female model was sniffing his neck, her lips parted, eyes closed. He was fully clothed, but she was wearing just a black bra, her hand beneath his shirt. The sun shone on both of them, and Mary had to admit that it was a gorgeous shot.

 _'So we talked to Matthew for a good five minutes at the beginning of the night before any of the big stars had arrived and it got super crazy. You know how a lot of big names just hurry through and their publicists are pushing them along and they give you maybe five words max? He just showed up on his own, completely easy going and friendly, didn't mind at all that we didn't really know who he was, and just had a nice little chat with us. He is just so charming, and funny, and really sweet, and that English accent just does it for me!'_

Matthew came out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck. He looked over at the television where the panel of entertainment and fashion commentators was back on the screen.

"Ah, keeping track of all of your plaudits are you?" he joked, smiling down at her. "You were on the Best Dressed lists the minute you hit the red carpet I think. I saw you all over Twitter last night."

"Mmm hmm," she replied, not looking at him.

"What's going on?" he asked.

 _'Now, our dear Mr. Crawley was a busy boy last night. Here he is with Sophie Turner and Gwendoline Christie at the HBO party having a bit of a laugh. Three Brits just partying it up together! Sophie looks rather cosy with him, and with her new blonde hair, they make quite the pair! Well, insiders tell me that they were practically inseparable for most of the night, so a new couple alert? We'll just have to see! Shattered is coming out in the Spring of next year, and I think we are going to be seeing a whole lot more of Matthew Crawley, and I cannot wait!'_

Matthew's eyes widened in shock.

"Inseparable, were you?" Mary noted, getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom.

"You know that's just a bunch of useless gossip," he said, watching her go.

"Mmm hmm," she replied, closing the door behind her.

He frowned before his attention was drawn to the nightstand where his phone buzzed with text messages coming in.

 **Clouds Rest, Runyon Canyon Park, Los Angeles, California, USA, Monday, September 19, 2016**

Anna exhaled, pumping her arms as she ran alongside Mary up the steep slope. The gorgeous vista of the city and the valley beyond was spread out before them under clear blue skies, but neither of them were paying attention. Mary was focused entirely on her running, her eyes locked straight ahead. Anna just was trying to keep up.

"All right, there, Anna?" Mary asked lightly, eyes still on the trail.

"Yeah," Anna replied, huffing and puffing a bit. "Fine."

They continued on in silence as they neared the top of the climb. Normally, Mary didn't go so hard, and they usually could have an easy chat as they went. Ever since they had lunch with Matthew and Alex, she seemed in a rather serious and pensive mood. Anna figured it was because she was still angry over having lost at the Emmys last night, but whenever Mary was bothered with work, she would rant and complain, vent her frustrations in rather creative tirades. Anna wasn't used to her just stewing with nary a word.

Finally they reached the peak at Clouds Rest, and Mary slowed down, taking her water bottle off the harness around her waist and having a sip. Anna did the same, letting out a long breath, then flipping her sunglasses on top of her head as she finally took a moment to admire the view.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she said, taking a glug of water.

"It's nice," Mary replied.

Anna frowned and glanced over at her. "What's up with you? You've been strangely quiet. Are you still put out about last night?"

Mary sighed and shook her head. "No. At least not over what you think. Did you see Matthew's Armani campaign?"

Anna nodded. "I thought he looked quite handsome. Between that and the interviews he did on the red carpet, he's getting some good buzz for himself."

"He is," Mary nodded.

"And that's a problem?" Anna questioned.

"No, of course not. It's nice that he's finally getting some well-earned attention," Mary said plainly.

"But?" Anna prodded.

"But…oh, I don't know," Mary scoffed, frowning as she looked out to the city below. "His phone has been blowing up all day with calls and texts from people congratulating him and saying they saw him on television last night. Molesley's apparently been inundated with casting calls and go-sees for him, which probably means he's only gotten four or five, total."

Anna frowned. "Again, this is a bad thing, is it?"

"No!" Mary complained. "I suppose it's just reminding me that he has a career of his own, and soon, quite soon, he's going to have to make a decision on his next job, and the odds of him staying in Toronto are quite slim."

"I wouldn't say that," Anna noted. "You're in Toronto."

Mary rolled her eyes. "He needs to go where the work is. I know that. I've always known that. It just became more real to me this morning, is all, and I don't quite know how I feel about it."

"But you're happy for him," Anna tested.

"I don't feel as happy as I should be, which only makes me more annoyed," Mary admitted.

Anna nodded. "Could it be that questions over your own future are part of it, too?"

"Perhaps," Mary allowed. "But I'm signed for another year in Toronto, so I know where I'll be. It's his next move that's all up in the air. I could always go to wherever he's working once we wrap on _Shattered_ , but who knows what will happen in January? When filming starts on the next season, I'll be working straight through. We'll be limited to video calls and nothing more."

Anna quirked her eyebrows in surprise.

"What?" Mary asked.

"Nothing, erm, nothing at all. I just have never heard you plan your schedule around a man, is all," Anna muttered.

Mary's mouth fell open. "God, I am, aren't I? Oh, no, no, no, no…that can't be!"

Anna smiled. "Now, hang on, you're just thinking ahead is all…"

"Right, right, you're right," Mary said, nodding her head to calm herself. "I'm just figuring out the logistics of the next few months, is all. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Nothing at all," Anna echoed.

"Matthew's my boyfriend. Of course I want to know where he'll be and how we're going to see each other. That's reasonable," Mary continued.

"Perfectly," Anna agreed.

"Besides, he'll want my opinion and input on what projects he's considering and what his next move should be. Regardless of our relationship, we do discuss our careers, and so I'm just keeping informed to give him proper advice," Mary reasoned.

"Sounds smart to me," Anna commented.

Mary took another sip of water, then stowed her bottle back in its holster. "Come on. Let's get going. I want to call Aunt Rosamund when we get back to the hotel."

Anna put her sunglasses back on and smirked wryly as she followed Mary down the hill.

 **Driving Range, Los Angeles Country Club, Beverly Hills, California, USA, Monday, September 19, 2016**

Alex turned his head and looked down the long expanse of pristine grass before focusing back on the golf ball teed up at his feet. Taking a slow breath, he pulled the two-iron back above his head, then shifted his weight on to his front leg and swung the club quickly through, powering the ball down the range. He watched it fly two hundred yards before bouncing towards the flag in the distance.

"Nice swing," Matthew said, passing behind him and setting up in the station next to his.

"Nice of you to make an appearance," Alex noted, teeing up another ball. "I had pretty much given up on you."

"Sorry," Matthew said, taking a rented club out of the nearby golf bag. "Joe was going on and on about a meeting for next week back in Toronto and he just wouldn't get to the point."

"He wouldn't shut up, you mean," Alex stated.

"Something like that," Matthew said, smiling as he teed up a golf ball.

"Well, I guess it's an exciting time for him, and for you," Alex noted. "You're hot, in demand. How's it feel?"

"Tiring," Matthew said, taking a few practice swings. "I thought it was just going to be a local campaign, but apparently Armani put out some of their favourite photos internationally and mine made the cut. Even Mother's seen it, which was…awkward."

Alex laughed and took a swing, sending the ball sailing into the distance.

"I thought I would have more time to consider what my next job was going to be, but things are speeding up, apparently. Joe's already gotten feedback on the meetings I took last week," Matthew said, grunting as he took a swing and sliced the ball well wide.

"Studios get a bit antsy as their year-end creeps up," Alex said. "They like to have things in place so they can show the shareholders and industry types that there's a plethora of work coming."

"Right," Matthew mumbled.

They kept at it for another hour, using different clubs and trying different shots. Alex always found hitting balls relaxing. He never had the time or patience to play a full round of golf, but a quick jaunt over to the driving range was never a problem, particularly when Anna was off running with Mary.

Matthew, on the other hand, seemed to be swinging rather violently today, taking huge cuts at the ball and blasting his shots as hard as possible. Alex didn't say anything about it. After finishing up their shots, they went back up to the clubhouse to grab a drink.

"How is Mary doing?" Alex asked, sipping his orange juice. "Is she still pissed about last night?"

"A little bit, but she'll get over it quickly. She's not one to wallow. I think she's more concerned about what Henry's going to do next and how that impacts on her and the show," Matthew offered.

"It might be a good time for her to move on after this coming season, regardless of whether he stays or not," Alex said. "Five years is a good run on television."

"Maybe. I think that's what Rosamund wants her to do. I just hope she doesn't drag out her decision too much. She doesn't cope well with uncertainty. She likes to know what's happening six months, a year in advance," Matthew said. "The more things remain undecided, the more perturbed she gets."

"I wouldn't mind knowing either," Alex said.

Matthew smiled and sipped his Coke. "Well, Anna will be taking most of 2018 off anyway, won't she?"

"With any luck," Alex said. "If I can get her to take six months, it'll be a miracle."

Matthew nodded, then turned his head towards the television on the wall of the café as the hum of violins and the dramatic beating of drums drew his attention.

 _'You're judging me. How cute. I wouldn't say it out loud, if I were you…'_

Mary delivered her line with the usual teasing smirk that she used as Jade, her sword running along the alarmed face of a grovelling bureaucrat. The trailer continued with scenes of Mary and Henry in both battle armour and modern business attire, the violins and drums sweeping along as the speed of the images grew. There were battles and dramatic close-ups, stinging dialogue and of course, kissing. The screen went black with Mary's wicked laugh providing the soundtrack before the _Paladin_ logo came up.

"New trailer?" Alex noted.

"Apparently," Matthew said curtly.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

"God, I feel horrible for those children," Anna said, shaking her head.

"Why?" Mary asked. "It's not as though they won't be cared for. If the rumours are true, they might even be better off without him."

Anna laughed ruefully. "Well, no child should have to grow up in a broken home."

"You turned out perfectly well," Mary noted, smiling at her assistant. "I was more surprised by Naomi and Liev. When she didn't show up to the Emmys, I didn't think twice about it. They were just here a few weeks ago looking entirely happy."

"I suppose actors are good at presenting the image that they want," Anna noted.

"Or in some cases, the image they don't want, but are required to," Mary said, rolling her eyes.

Anna nodded sympathetically. "That schedule that Lady Rosamund sent over for the premiere in November seemed a bit much."

"It is, but there's nothing to be done for it, so I must smile and tolerate Henry's groping yet again," Mary said coldly.

"Alex says that if I was in your position, he wouldn't be able to bear it. He wants to punch Henry in the face already as it is," Anna said, smiling in understanding.

"There's no point, but tell him I appreciate it all the same. As insufferable as Henry is going to be now after his victory, I can't deny that the entire 'showmance' has paid dividends. Without it, my name would only come up a few times a year whenever I made an appearance or when the show was on. My profile is higher because of 'Marbot'," Mary admitted, rolling her eyes.

"Just be sure to warn Matthew ahead of November," Anna joked.

Mary sighed and looked down at her tablet. "There's a good chance he won't even be here by then, so it's all terribly convenient. Henry will have me all to himself."

Anna smiled wanly for her friend.

They both looked up when they heard a knock on Mary's trailer door.

Anna went over and opened the door, stepping aside to let Natalie come inside.

"Hi," Anna said politely. "Mary, I'm just going to go and fetch lunch."

"All right," Mary acknowledged as Anna left. "Hi."

"Hi. I was looking for Matthew, actually. He's not in his trailer," Natalie said, coming over and sitting down on the sofa.

"Oh, his schedule was changed for today, actually," Mary said idly, glancing down at her tablet. "He's got meetings, so I think your scene was pushed to tonight."

"Ah, well, that's no bother. I just finished with Rick, so that frees up my afternoon," Natalie noted. "This must be rather exciting for Matthew, having the studios call him for once, rather than begging to be noticed. He's just been going from strength to strength for weeks now, hasn't he? I saw his photo on a bus the other day."

"It's all going straight to his head, I'm sure. He'll be paid more than us before you know it," Mary answered wryly, sharing a smile with Natalie.

"I already thought he was, it was just a matter of by how much," Natalie joked.

"Well, Rick's the lead, so he's probably getting at least double. Matthew's a supporting actor, so that means he's probably making only one-and-a-half times what we are," Mary said, the two of them laughing together.

Natalie shook her head and sighed. "I do envy him, though. It's all sort of new and fresh for him, isn't it? He's not jaded or cynical like the rest of us."

"I wouldn't say that. It's not like he's new to the business. He's been at it for just as long as we have, he's just now having success with it. He probably appreciates it more, but he's quite careful by nature. I imagine he doesn't want to get too carried away, in case it all comes apart for him," Mary stated.

"I don't see that happening, at least not yet," Natalie said. "I think he's brilliant, honestly. There's this sort of raw emotion that he brings to his scenes. It doesn't feel as rehearsed or practised as you'd find with a more experienced actor, but I know he works his ass off. Shit, sometimes he has me convinced that he really believes what he's saying."

Mary smiled and shook her head.

"What about you?" Natalie asked. "Do you have anything for the rest of the year until the next season of _Paladin_ starts filming?"

"That's the big question," Mary replied. "Somedays I feel like just going back to Downton and seeing my family for awhile. Others, I want to work straight through. There's a few different roles I'm looking at, nothing that big, really. Just to fill the time, more than anything."

"It can be hard with scheduling when you know you're blocked off for those months next year already," Natalie sympathized.

"It can be, yeah," Mary agreed. She picked up her phone to text her assistant. "Why don't you join us for lunch? Anna can grab you something."

"Love it, thanks," Natalie said cheerfully.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

Matthew smiled as he walked down the well-lit hallway towards Mary's door. Ever since coming back from California a week ago, he'd been running around from one meeting to another, taking calls whenever he had a free moment. Armani wanted to expand his role in their campaign, maybe even use him for their line of made-to-measure suits, so there were discussions about that. He was weighing different options for his next project, and rather than flying blind as he usually had to, he was able to speak to the directors and producers in advance this time, pick their brains a little bit and understand what they were looking for. There were no guarantees with any of these new opportunities. He wasn't being offered anything. It was all just preliminary talks to see whether he would fit with any of the roles being proposed, but it was fun to be considered at all, to feel wanted. For years he went into auditions competing against far more established actors, always resigned to the fact that he needed a miracle just to make it past the first cut. After a while, he began to think he didn't have 'it' – that intangible magnetism that all the stars had – that he would be relegated to bit parts and small roles, never to achieve anything more, no matter how hard he worked. To have studios calling him now, to be interested in him, even if it was just as part of a larger pool of candidates, was the stuff of dreams.

He grinned as he opened the door to Mary's apartment. He couldn't wait to talk to her.

"Ah, there you are. Did Clarence smuggle you in through the backdoor so you could avoid the mob of fans and paps waiting for you outside?" Mary asked, arching her eyebrow at him from her seat on the sofa.

"Ha ha," he laughed sarcastically, kissing her lightly and sitting down next to her. He pulled her close and put his arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head.

"You're in a good mood," she noted. "I thought you'd be tired. How long were you on set?"

"Ten hours," he sighed. "Rick was great, just an absolute pro again. I caught him a few times by accident and he never complained once."

"Probably because your punches didn't hurt even when they landed," she teased, snuggling against him. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there. A girl likes to watch two handsome, strong men fighting over her."

"Well, just for the record, I won," he said cheekily, reaching over and tickling her side.

She laughed and slapped his chest. "And I suppose you're here to claim your prize?"

"You know what they say, darling. To the victor…" he said, lifting her chin and kissing her.

"Mmm," she chuckled against his mouth, kissing him back and caressing his face.

"I have a surprise for you," he said thickly, pulling her closer.

"A big surprise?" she teased, flicking her tongue against his.

"Huge, actually," he replied, laughing devilishly. "I may have a job for us."

"A job?" she questioned, pulling back slightly and looking at him in confusion.

"Yes," he said smugly. "One of the films I was looking at is about a federal agent assigned to protect a woman in Witness Protection. It's a remake of an old Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. Anyway, they haven't cast the female lead yet either, so I naturally thought we might go for it."

"You did," she said.

"Yes. It could be quite fun," he said, smiling at her. "I'd be playing your bodyguard, your protector."

"The man I'd be hiding behind?" she suggested, arching her eyebrow at him.

"Well, I think there would be scenes where you get to shoot a gun, maybe do a few stunts. I haven't looked at the script in detail," he explained. "But I think we could squeeze it in before February, so it wouldn't interfere with _Paladin_."

"Ah, well, I'll look into it," she said.

He looked at her, perplexed. "You don't seem particularly interested."

"Well, darling, I haven't even seen the script. I don't know what studio is involved, or any other details. It's rather hard to get excited with so little to go on, isn't it?" she said.

"That's true," he allowed. "I just thought it was good news, is all. There's not too many projects that fit our schedules and offer us the opportunity to work together opposite each other."

"Darling, we're working opposite each other right now," she said, chuckling as she patted his cheek. "One film is already enough, isn't it? It's not as though we must work together on every project."

He frowned at her. "No, it's not a necessity, but there's no reason not to, is there?"

"I think that the script, the story, the role, the director, the studio – all of those things are more important than whether there's a chance for both of us to be in the movie, or not. It's a nice bonus if we can make it happen, but there's no need for us to actively look for projects that permit it," she said easily.

"That's all true, yes," he said slowly.

"I'll mention it to Aunt Rosamund. She can get me the details and I can give it a proper look then," she continued. "But make sure that whatever your next venture will be is something you really want, Matthew. That's what's important, not whether I'll be there, or not."

"I'll do that," he said tightly.

Before he could say anything else, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She sat up and moved away from him, picking up the phone and glancing at the screen.

"That's Anna. We're going to the airport to pick up Sybil," she announced, rising from the sofa.

"Did you want me to come along?" he asked.

"Oh no, that's all right, darling. Anna's driving. We're going to go and fetch Sybil, then go and have dinner, just us girls. Why don't you go on back to yours? I'll text you later," she said scrolling over her phone screen as she headed for the foyer.

"All right. I'll talk to you later. Tell Sybil I said hi," he managed, frowning as he watched her walk away.

"Will do!" she replied, waving back at him as her eyes stayed on her phone.

 **Toronto Pearson International Airport, Terminal 1, International Arrivals, Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

Sybil gave Mary a quick kiss, then fell in step, pulling her valise behind her as they made their way to the escalators. Mary texted Anna to have her bring the car around to pick them up, keeping her head down and moving briskly. While it was rare that she was ever recognized at the airport, she wasn't in the mood to deal with photographers or autograph seekers. She had to still make sure her hair, makeup and clothes were on point, lest she be captured wearing leggings and a baggy sweater or something considered just as unconscionable. However, she tried not to make eye contact with anyone, or remain standing in the same place for too long. Whether it was her careful precautions or the fact that no one was really at the airport at this time of night, they weren't bothered on their way to the car.

"We're going to grab a bite at this little bistro downtown," Mary declared as Anna drove them on to the highway. "You'll love it."

"Are Matthew and Alex meeting us there?" Sybil asked, looking out the window.

"No, it's just the three of us. We can have a proper chat. No boys allowed," Mary said.

Anna smiled.

"All right. Nice! Yeah, I'll see the both of them soon enough," Sybil agreed.

"You'll see them at the wrap party this weekend," Anna noted.

"Yeah, the wrap party! I can't wait! My first wrap party! It sounds so glamorous!" Sybil gushed.

"She's going to be quite disappointed to have her illusions shattered," Mary said, smirking at Anna.

"Whatever. Any party that you have your stylist send you clothes for is glamorous in my book," Sybil retorted. "Anyway, that's not until the weekend. What's going on during the week?"

"I told you, darling. We're going to be very busy finishing our scenes so we can actually wrap on the movie. Anna's trying to carve out some time so we can at least have a meal together each day, but you're on your own for the most part," Mary advised.

"Ah well, I'll keep busy," Sybil said easily. "It'll be nice to get away from non-stop election coverage at every turn."

"We still get plenty of it up here," Anna said, smiling at Mary.

"It can't be as much as we do in New York," Sybil complained. "Anyway, enough about that. What did you think about that film Matthew found out about?"

"Film?" Anna asked.

"How do you know about it?" Mary asked, frowning and looking back at her sister.

"He texted me about it," Sybil explained, shrugging her shoulders. "I thought it was a brilliant idea."

"Oh God, not you too," Mary said, rolling her eyes.

"What?" Sybil asked in confusion.

"What film is this?" Anna asked.

"Matthew found a script for some movie that he thinks the both of us would be perfect for. He'd be playing a federal agent and I'd be the woman in Witness Protection that he's sworn to defend," Mary said drily. "It doesn't really sound like anything special, to be honest."

"But you've barely heard anything about it," Sybil noted. "You should at least look at the script, don't you think?"

"I told him that I'd mention it to Aunt Rosamund, but I can't see it being the type of role I would want," Mary said plainly. "Running scared from the bad guys, cowering in the corner while Matthew's character stands tall shooting his gun all over the place, gratefully thanking him by taking my clothes off and letting him ravish me, it's all horribly clichéd, I expect."

"That does sound quite bad," Anna said, laughing at the description. "Which probably means it'll be an absolute hit."

"As long as the special effects budget is big enough," Mary joked.

"So you're not going to even consider it?" Sybil asked.

"Darling, I've always wanted to have more control over my career, choose the roles that I want," Mary stated. "I've spent the past four years tied to Henry both onscreen and off, and look where it's gotten me? Matthew means well, but I'm not going to choose my next film just because he happens to be in it. I'm actually rather shocked he would even suggest such a thing."

"What's wrong with working with Matthew again?" Sybil asked.

"Nothing," Mary said defensively. "But I'm not going to make it a priority in determining what my next move will be. There's far more important things to my career than whether or not I get to work with Matthew again."

Sybil frowned and looked out the window as they headed into downtown.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

"We all got what we wanted," Sidney said, smirking at Nico. "We broke them up. You got your money…"

"And you got your revenge," Nico replied, frowning and shaking his head. "Was it all worth it?"

"What do you think?" she asked. "I trust that we'll never see you again?"

"I always keep my promises," he replied. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Good. Have a nice life, Nico," she said, extending her hand.

"The same to you," he said, nodding his head as he shook her hand briefly.

The two of them turned in opposite directions and walked away. One camera shot them from the side, showing each of them walk out of the scene. Another camera zoomed in on each of their faces. She smirked, and so did he.

"Cut! And that is a wrap, ladies and gentlemen!" Thea called, and the crew all applauded heartily, exchanging high fives and hugs.

"Kudos! Your first major movie in the can!" Natalie exclaimed, hugging Matthew and kissing him on the cheek.

"Thanks," he said, laughing and nodding in acknowledgment to everyone as they walked off set. "I can't believe it's all over."

"Everything except the drinking tomorrow night," she joked. "All right, I've got to get out of here. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," he said, giving her a kiss before going around and shaking hands with the crew.

"Great job, Matthew," Thea said quickly, smiling and nodding to him as she headed off to the editing room. With the wrap party tomorrow, everyone went about finishing up their usual tasks. It was a smaller group on set today as Natalie and Matthew had their last scene to film. Rick and Mary had already finished and weren't needed today. Most of the crew would come back tomorrow morning to take everything down and clean up.

Matthew sipped his water as he made his way to his trailer. He had already moved out the few personal items he had in there, toiletries, spare clothes and the like. He went in and sat down on the sofa, glancing around at the Spartan space. When he first came here four months ago, he marveled at everything. This was the biggest budget project he'd ever been a part of, the biggest trailer he'd ever had, the largest crew, even the hair, makeup, wardrobe and catering was the most lavish and complete he'd ever experienced. His sense of wonder and awe had vanished quickly, replaced by the fear of being found lacking where it counted most. So, he worked himself ragged, preparing, rehearsing, brainstorming and repeating the process as many times as necessary to become comfortable with every line, every glance, every movement. Now at the end of his unlikely journey, he felt proud and satisfied with his work. Thea and her producers and editors would decide what the final cut of the movie looked like when it was released to theatres next year. The studio executives and accountants would determine whether the movie was a success or failure based on its box office receipts and other analytics. Right now, though, Matthew felt as though he belonged.

He glanced at his phone, frowning as he noticed no text messages or missed calls from Mary. They hadn't spoken much all week and barely saw each other. With the frantic shooting schedule and Sybil's visit, they were pulled in different directions every day. They had no scenes together left to shoot, and often were coming and going from the set at different times. When they weren't eating rushed meals in their trailers, they were going out with Sybil, Anna, Alex and a few others. With Sybil staying with Mary, they hadn't spent a night together all week either. He usually dragged himself home and went straight to sleep, wishing her a token good night by text. There just hadn't been any time to sit down and relax, have a proper chat, just enjoy each other's company. He had been too busy to even notice, honestly.

Nodding to himself, he rose up and headed for the door, his car waiting to take him back downtown. This had all been a career-changing experience, but _Shattered_ was over and done with now, officially, and it was time to turn his attention to his next destination. Such was the life of an actor, always on the move, never in the same place for overly long. It was the life he had chosen for himself, and it was time he embraced it fully.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

Anna smirked as she followed her husband into the house, keeping quiet as he threw his keys on the side table, kicked his shoes off and trudged through to the kitchen. She removed her baseball cap and pulled her hair tie off, shaking out her ponytail. Still smiling, she watched as he poured her a glass of orange juice and passed it across the island to her, a frown still on his face as he opened a Coke and took a long sip. Taking a sip, she waited patiently for his next outburst.

"Three freaking hits for the entire stupid game," he grumbled finally, shaking his head. "This team isn't making the playoffs. They're going to get swept in Boston and Detroit or Seattle is going to catch them and they're not going to make the playoffs after being in first place just last month."

She pursed her lips so he wouldn't catch her smiling. "The math still favours them making it in," she said patiently.

"Barely, maybe. Even if they do get in, they'll have to go to Baltimore for the game, and Baltimore is awesome at home. So frustrating…" he said tightly.

She smiled and finished her juice. Baseball hadn't confused her as much as hockey and basketball when she first came over to Canada. She had a basic knowledge of cricket already and he had filled in what she needed to know. She still found the games far too long and rather boring at times. Alex was an avid sports fan and had season tickets for several of Toronto's professional teams. They never had time to go to all the games, so he ended up giving most of them away to clients. The closer it got to playoff time, though, the more they tried to go. The stadium was packed with close to 50,000 fans and the atmosphere was loud and electric. When Toronto lost though, it usually put her husband in a comically frustrated mood.

"If you're so convinced that they either won't make it, or will just lose, then I can give away our tickets right?" she said lightly.

He glared at her. "That's not funny, love."

"Well why would you want to go watch if they're just going to lose, as you say?" she teased.

"Because if they somehow win and I'm not there, then I'll be even more pissed," he whinged.

"So, if we're going to the game regardless, then maybe you should be a bit more optimistic about their chances," she pointed out.

"Don't use logic when talking about sports," he said sarcastically.

She laughed and came over to him, pulling him into a hug.

"Give us a smile, babes," she said, kissing him lightly.

He turned his lips up, albeit petulantly.

"Not bad," she said, laughing at him. "Now, are you going to be in a better mood?"

"I'll try," he said dismissively.

"Yes, do," she said. "I'm not going to have my child inheriting your temper, and I'm certainly not going to conceive with you in a surly mood."

"I highly doubt that makes any difference," he said, his hands moving around to massage her back.

"Even still, I won't risk it. So, either get far more cheerful or you're sleeping on the couch tonight," she warned.

"When have I ever gone to bed with you angry?" he asked, smirking as he kissed her playfully, his hands moving down to squeeze her bottom. "I'm having pretty happy thoughts right now, actually."

She laughed and kissed him quickly, taking his hand and leading him towards the stairs.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

Matthew stared at his laptop screen, the text and numbers becoming blurry, he'd been looking at them for so long. Shaking his head and sighing, he sat back and rubbed his face, then stretched his neck, trying to ease his tense muscles.

"Fucking hell," he mumbled, leaning forward and staring at the screen again.

He blinked and looked up in surprise as he heard a key turn in the lock and the door of his apartment swing open. The sound of familiar heels clicking on the tile of the foyer rang out just before Mary removed her shoes and came into the living room.

"Hi," he said, looking up at her as she came over. "I thought you were with Sybil tonight."

"I was," she confirmed, taking a seat next to him. "I put her to bed and decided to come over and see my boyfriend."

"Ah, well, what a pleasant surprise," he said, smiling politely.

She reached over and took his hand in hers. "I also thought we should talk. It's been rather difficult for us to have a moment lately, hasn't it?"

"We've been running around every day it seems," he noted.

She nodded in agreement. "I know that you were disappointed the other night when you told me about that movie and I wasn't as high on it as you hoped I'd be."

"I wouldn't say I was disappointed," he said carefully. "But I was hoping you'd be more into the idea, yes."

She smiled and looked at him warmly. "Darling, I know I don't show it, but I do think it's sweet how you think of me for such things. It's just that I…well, I want you to understand why I'm so fiercely protective of my career, why I didn't just jump at the opportunity that you presented."

He nodded, squeezing her hand in encouragement and watching her closely.

She took a deep breath, looking away for a moment. "I've always wanted to set myself apart, you know that. Being Violet Crawley's granddaughter and Cora Crawley's daughter has always put expectations on me, and I've fought against that, even all the way back in school. I've never done anything that they did, and that's been on purpose. I've been offered plays and musicals that they did before. Someone from _Coronation Street_ even contacted Mum about me years ago. I've always been adamant that my family name will have nothing to do with my success."

"Right, I know that," he said softly.

"As a result, I've probably gone out of my way to do things differently, like coming to North America and doing a fantasy show with lots of fighting and sex scenes. It's not something that Granny or Mum ever did, and I've been very lucky that it's all worked out for me," she said.

He nodded along.

"The problem though, is that everyone thinks of me now not only as Empress Jade, but also as being linked to Henry, or more accurately, as being an actress who can be part of an ensemble but can't carry a project by myself. I'm a co-headliner, but not the actual star. The Emmys were further proof of that. The powers-that-be think that Henry carries the show more than I do," she said.

"I don't know about that. They're different categories," he said.

She shook her head to silence him. "Be that as it may, he's the award winner and I'm not. It's been that way since he won his first Emmy, and it'll be that way for a while still. That's why working on _Shattered_ has been so refreshing for me. I'm dealing with a female director and my character's story is all about freeing herself from the control of a man. I didn't see it at first, but it's been exactly what I needed when I needed it."

"I see," he said.

"It's very important for me to build something of my own," she said. " _Paladin_ is what it is, and I can't change that. My decisions on movies, though, those are entirely mine, and so I'm not going to just do anything."

"I see," he said gravely.

"It isn't that I'm against doing another movie with you," she explained. "But I'm not looking to play the victim, the woman who needs to be saved. That's what I was afraid of with Christina, but it turned out that she ended up saving herself, and that was quite a nice surprise. I want to be very careful with my next choice, because I could be looking at not having a show in a few months' time, so my next film has to be the right one."

"Understood," he said.

"It's not just about me, though. Darling, this is a very exciting time for you. You've wrapped on one major film and you're getting calls for others. I want you to have all success in the world, and that means taking chances, being brave, going for your dream role, rather than choosing to remain in the background. Do you honestly think that playing some kind of action hero is going to get you the career that you want?"

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled wryly. "When you put it that way, it does sound quite horrid, doesn't it?"

"I think you're better than a Schwarzenegger remake, though you do have the body for it," she teased, drawing a relieved smile from him. "What was so brilliant about _Shattered_ was that we each found it on our own. I didn't know that you were going for it, and it all happened for us without our having to force anything."

"As though we were destined to be in it together," he said, smiling wistfully.

"Exactly, and you know I'm not one to believe in fate and such things, but it's wonderful how it all worked out, and if that were to happen again, I would love it, but the last thing I want is for us to deliberately choose a project just so we can work together and it turns out to be terrible. It needs to make sense for both of us independently, otherwise there's no point," she said.

"Yes, I suppose that's right," he said, sighing heavily.

"I know that it sounds…comforting…and appealing to work together because it went so well this time. But darling, you don't need me, honestly. You know how much everyone – Thea, Natalie, the producers – they all loved your work. Whatever next role you choose, make it something you want, something you can't wait to do, and go after it. I told you before. Wherever you are, I'll come visit. We'll make it work, I promise," she said, smiling at him.

He smiled back and caressed her hand.

"Feel better, then?" she asked.

"Yes, much," he said, leaning over and kissing her lightly.

"Good. Now, where's your spreadsheet of all the pros and cons of the different projects you're mulling over?" she asked.

His eyes widened in surprise. "Right over here. How did you know?"

She laughed and shook her head, reaching for the laptop and bringing it over. "Because I know you. Your mind is probably a complete mess, isn't it?"

"I thought that organizing everything would help, but I just feel even more lost," he mumbled.

"Well, let's see if I can help you with that," she said confidently, resting the laptop on his legs and scrolling over it. "Now, you shouldn't worry about things like location and even salary. They're factors, but not dealbreakers. The studio and the director are more important, because that will raise your profile, regardless of what the box office ends up being. You don't want to just do anything, because if it bombs, that's not good, regardless of the studio, but it's very difficult to predict what is going to be a hit and what won't, so don't even bother trying. Now, see here? He was huge at Sundance this year, so anything he's attached to is going to automatically get a lot of buzz. You want to flag a handful of projects as being more high priority and go from there. You're going to be auditioning for multiple films, so you can't be too picky, but you don't want to just accept anything either…"

He nodded and followed her analysis, helping her highlight different films and rearrange his spreadsheet accordingly. He put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him as they kept working, neither of them caring for how late it was.


	15. Chapter 15

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

She laughed and shook her head, reaching for the laptop and bringing it over. "Because I know you. Your mind is probably a complete mess, isn't it?"

"I thought that organizing everything would help, but I just feel even more lost," he mumbled.

"Well, let's see if I can help you with that," she said confidently, resting the laptop on his legs and scrolling over it. "Now, you shouldn't worry about things like location and even salary. They're factors, but not dealbreakers. The studio and the director are more important, because that will raise your profile, regardless of what the box office ends up being. You don't want to just do anything, because if it bombs, that's not good, regardless of the studio, but it's very difficult to predict what is going to be a hit and what won't, so don't even bother trying. Now, see here? He was huge at Sundance this year, so anything he's attached to is going to automatically get a lot of buzz. You want to flag a handful of projects as being more high priority and go from there. You're going to be auditioning for multiple films, so you can't be too picky, but you don't want to just accept anything either…"

He nodded and followed her analysis, helping her highlight different films and rearrange his spreadsheet accordingly. He put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him as they kept working, neither of them caring for how late it was.

 **Chapter 15:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

Anna opened her eyes and blinked several times. She saw the nightstand first, and the antique lamp with the navy shade, the blue walls of her bedroom beyond. Years ago when she was remodelling the house, she had chosen blue for the walls because it reminded her of a small inn that she and Alex had stayed at in Italy. She couldn't remember the name of it, but the blue walls had been so soothing, particularly with a view of the Mediterranean to go with it.

She smiled as she felt her husband's body spooned behind her, his steady breathing indicating he was still asleep. One arm was draped over her stomach, the other wedged between her pillow and shoulder. In the past, she hadn't been one to cuddle when sleeping. Her past boyfriends didn't seem to want to either. Alex was different. Even if they fell asleep apart, he would always find his way to her in the night. It felt strange now if she woke up without him attached to her somehow.

Her eyes fell to his outstretched hand, the long fingers curved in repose. Her phone was on the nightstand, but even without looking at it she knew it was quite early in the morning. Today was a light day, with just the wrap party in the evening for _Shattered_. She wasn't sure what Mary was planning for her next move. There were a few projects on the table, but her friend's mind was more focused on her future beyond _Paladin_ , she expected. Today was a day for celebration though, and larger issues could be put off for a while longer.

She smiled and reached out for his hand, pulling it towards her. When he didn't respond, she brought his fingers to her mouth, kissing them softly, then teasing them with her tongue.

"Mmm," he groaned behind her, leaning forward and nuzzling against her hair.

She held in a laugh as she continued, closing her lips around his finger. Her eyes brightened as she felt his other hand shift, sneaking beneath her tank top and cupping her breast. His firm arousal pressed against her bottom, and she shimmied her hips a bit, smiling at his groan in reply.

"Love, it's a little early, no?" he asked, his voice thick and heavy. "I thought we were on a strict noon-evening schedule."

"We are," she answered, reaching down and covering his hand on her breast with her own. "That doesn't mean we can't be spontaneous, though, does it?"

"Mmm, three times in one day, Mrs. Lewis? You're very demanding," he said lightly, grinding against her intently.

She turned her head and kissed him lightly. "It seems I just can't help myself, Mr. Lewis," she said. "You make me want it all the time."

He chuckled and pinched her playfully. "Well, what optimal position should we try this time?"

She turned around and pushed him on to his back, straddling him. Leaning back slightly, she pulled her tank top off and smiled as his hands immediately went to her breasts.

"We can think about getting pregnant later," she said, moving down his body and removing his underwear. She took hold of him and raised up. "This time's just for us."

"Sounds good," he said, smiling at her as his hands moved to her hips and he helped her lower herself on to him.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley,** **Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

Mary closed the door behind her and kicked off her heels. She strode briskly through the living room, down the hall and into the guest room. Her youngest sister was sound asleep, the duvet pulled up to her chin. Mary promptly sat down on the bed beside her and stroked her hair, the way she used to do when they were children growing up at Downton Abbey. When the usual Yorkshire thunderstorms would roll through, Sybil and Edith would run to Mary's bed and the three sisters would huddle together under the covers and wait out the booming thunder and lightning flashes together. Now, nearly twenty years later, the sisters still found each other in their time of need.

"Sybil, Sybil…Sybil, wake up!" she called.

"Ooof, what? What time is it?" Sybil mumbled, keeping her eyes closed.

"It's a little past 8. Wake up, darling. I need to talk to you," Mary said softly.

"Can't it wait another hour? The sun's barely come up," Sybil replied, her words sounding a bit more understandable as she swallowed and licked her lips.

"Sunrise was 7:13 this morning. Come on, Sybil. You're a doctor. Aren't you supposed to be able to wake up at a moment's notice?" Mary asked.

"I'm not a bloody emergency doctor. I'm an obstetrician, and I only wake up early if I'm scheduled to be in early, which today, I am not," Sybil retorted, much more awake now, but still refusing to open her eyes.

"What about when you're on call, though?" Mary asked, frowning at her.

"I'm not on call right now, am I?" Sybil said. "What are you doing back here so early? I thought you and Matthew would go and get breakfast."

"I have a million things to do before the wrap party tonight so we just had coffee. Sybil, I really need your help, all right? I can't turn to anyone else," Mary pleaded.

Sybil groaned and rolled over, burying her face in the pillow for a moment, then finally opened her eyes and looked up sleepily at Mary. "All right, all right. What is it?"

"I need to do something for Matthew," Mary explained.

"Something like what?" Sybil asked, snuggling against the pillow again, keeping one eye on her sister.

"I don't know, that's the problem. There's going to be cameras at the party tonight so we can't act all affectionate and whatever. We're going to walk the red carpet as a group, the four of us, and I can hang out with him more than usual when we're inside, but there's bound to be photos taken during the party as well, so I may not even be able to dance with him. He says he understands, but I know it must annoy him. I need to do something nice for him, something cute and adorable, something endearing and heartwarming, one of those good girlfriend things," Mary grumbled.

"Mmm, get him a key lime pie. He loves those," Sybil recommended, closing her eyes again.

"Sybil, be serious," Mary complained, nudging her sister in the side.

"Fine. Forget the pie. Just give him a hot shag. He'll love that even more," Sybil muttered.

"Sybil, he's already getting that! Well, not this week, but still," Mary said.

Sybil opened her eyes and looked at her sister again. "Why not?"

Mary arched her eyebrow and looked at her pointedly.

"Oh…oh!" Sybil said, blinking her eyes to wake herself up. "Bugger."

"Indeed," Mary said, rolling her eyes. "Now come on, think! I need something that'll really surprise him!"

"Record this conversation that we're having right now. It'll shock the hell out of him that you're agonizing over him at all, to be sure," Sybil noted.

"Sybil!" Mary whinged, shifting to lie down next to her and crossing her arms over her chest.

"All right! Sorry, really," Sybil apologized, cuddling against Mary's side and resting her head on her sister's shoulder. "I'm listening, honestly."

"I just want to show him how important he is, despite everything. For instance, what would you do for Tom if something you did was really going to put him out?" Mary asked.

"I don't do anything to really put him out, if I can help it," Sybil admitted.

"Yes, fine, but what if you can't help it?" Mary said, rolling her eyes.

"Hmm…" Sybil thought out loud.

"And shagging is not an option," Mary stated.

"He would disagree," Sybil said, chuckling at the thought. "He'd let me get away with murder if I let him put it in my…"

"Sybil!" Mary groaned.

"Sorry," Sybil said, smiling all the same. "Darling, just calm down, all right? Matthew loves you. He understands you. He knows how important your career is and why you've made the choices you've made. He may not agree with all of them, but he understands. You don't need to go out of your way to placate him or make things up to him."

"I know I don't have to, but I want to," Mary whinged. "I mustn't make him feel as though I'm taking him for granted. Now that the movie's done with, who knows what's coming? We might be apart for months, depending on where our next projects are. The whole summer was so good. I want him to remember that, rather than the times I ignored him, or whatever."

"Why don't you just tell him exactly that?" Sybil suggested.

"He already knows it, but I want some sort of gesture to go along with it," Mary said.

"Matthew's not one to care about grand gestures as much as he cares about the sincerity behind them," Sybil noted.

"Yes, fine, but why can't I do both?" Mary asked.

"Of course you can, you just need an idea," Sybil said.

"Exactly, so come up with something already," Mary said.

"Hmm, I'm thinking," Sybil said.

 **Home of Tony Foyle, Kensington, London, England, September 2016**

Green played with his phone while he waited patiently in the foyer of the townhouse. Tony always made him wait in the foyer if Mabel was home. When she wasn't, he could come inside, have a beer and stay a while. When Lady Mabel was in residence, he needed to be quick about his business and be on his way even quicker. It was all rather comical, considering this was Tony's house, and had been in his family for generations. None of that mattered though. The fool let her run the place as though it was hers. Green didn't know if it was out of guilt or just plain weakness that Tony was so easily cowed by the woman. It was rather hilarious, he had to admit. If Tony could barely keep up with Lady Mabel, then trying to trade up to Lady Mary was going to be quite the endeavour. At any rate, by now Green found his employer's meekness amusing. He'd stopped wondering what would happen if Tony grew a spine long ago. Besides, he was in a hurry anyway. He had a plane to catch.

"All right, here you are," Tony said, coming into the foyer and handing him a leather folio. "Credit references, employment confirmation from the studio, funds for your first month's rent and security deposit, and your credit card for expenses during your trip. Try not to lose any of these. It would be a hassle getting them to resend any of it."

"Thanks," Green said, looking over the papers and items, then zipping the folio closed.

"You seem to have a lot of free time built into your itinerary," Tony noted.

"I want to visit a few of the sights, get an overview of what the city has to offer," Green explained. "It's not like you'll have the patience to do any of that when you arrive."

"Quite right," Tony admitted, smiling and nodding. "Well, don't get lost during your touring."

"Oh, don't worry, Anna will be with me. I'll be in very good hands," Green said, smirking at him knowingly.

Tony frowned. "Remember what I told you, Mr. Green," he warned.

"I'm not going to try anything, not unless she asks for it, anyway," Green said, holding his hands up innocently.

"I thought you said she was happily married?" Tony asked.

"Every woman is happily married until they're shown what they're missing," Green replied.

Tony glanced back up at the staircase behind him, then turned back to Green. "Just be careful. If you do anything to put her off and Mary raises it with me, you know who's side I'll take."

"If that happens, which it won't, then Lady Mary will be in your debt, won't she? I'd say that would be a positive result all around," Green joked.

Tony looked back up at the stairs again before continuing. "Just get your flat sorted and come straight back. I expect you to take a week over there at most."

"Yes, sir," Green said crisply. He turned and left, closing the heavy oak door behind him.

Tony shook his head and made his way back upstairs, heading down the hall and into the second floor study.

"Are you finished with Mr. Green?" Mabel asked as he came into the room.

"Yes. Hopefully he won't waste the rent money I've given him on strippers and drugs," Tony grumbled, coming over and sitting down on the sofa next to her.

"Of course he will, dear," she said lightly. "He'll find the cheapest place he can just so he can use your money on his numerous and dreadful vices."

"Whatever. As long as he's discrete and I don't find out anything about it," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Now, what about all this here? Is it helpful?"

Mabel looked up at the large television screen mounted on the wall. She touched her tablet and rewound the video back to the beginning.

"Very helpful," she said, smiling as she pressed 'play'. "Very helpful, indeed."

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

Alex squirted a dollop of moisturizer on to his hands and rubbed it into his skin, covering his cheeks and forehead and working it across his face. Once done with that, he poured a small cup of mouthwash and gargled, then wiped his mouth after spitting into the sink.

"You've cleaned up rather well, haven't you?" Anna said, coming over and giving him a light spank as she went over to her side of the vanity.

"There's a few marks that will be covered up, thankfully," he said wryly, smiling at her. "It could be a bit embarrassing trying to explain them."

"I thought men loved bragging about such things," she noted, taking out her makeup brush and powder. She took on a mock male voice. "I got this when I was banging my wife earlier, heh heh."

"Yeah that sounds exactly like me," he said sarcastically. His eyes narrowed in confusion as he watched her brush powder over her breasts and cleavage. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What?" she asked, putting the brush down and adjusting her bra.

"Why are you…what did you just…" he struggled, frowning as he pointed to her chest.

She looked at him curiously. "Yes?"

"Why did you put makeup on…them?" he asked, rolling his eyes in frustration.

She smiled and reached for her eyeliner. "Just giving them a bit of a contour, that's all."

Her explanation did not help his confusion. "You…they…uh…why, though?"

"It's just something women do," she said easily. "The party's going to be full of actresses and models, and I want to look my best."

"Love, you don't need to…contour…or whatever. You look amazing," he said.

"Thank you, but I'm not doing it for your benefit. I just like looking good when I go out, is all," she replied.

He paused for a moment, then nodded his head. "Okay. Well, you look great."

She smirked as he went over to the chair to get his suit jacket.

"You talked to Matthew about tonight, right?" she asked, applying her eyeliner. "Lady Rosamund called me earlier."

"He knows what's expected," he replied. "I'll make sure he maintains a respectable distance from Mary at all times."

"He may not feel as hard done by," she noted. "Between the Armani campaign and his interview at the Emmys, there ought to be quite a bit of attention paid to him tonight, particularly by eager women who will be overjoyed that's he's supposedly single."

"You know that he won't pay any attention to that, just like he didn't pay any attention to other women when he was actually single these past few years," he retorted. "He has a girlfriend. Period. Just not in public."

She looked at him knowingly. "I know it seems ridiculous…"

"Because it is ridiculous!" he said, coming up behind her. "If someone told me that I had to keep my distance from you, that I wouldn't be able to dance with you at a party, I'd tell them to go to hell."

She giggled as he hugged her and cupped her breasts.

"Stop it! I have to get ready!" she laughed, smiling at his reflection in the mirror.

"Hmm, you know, now that you mention it, the contouring does make them look outstanding," he remarked, leaning down and kissing her neck.

"You best remember that when your head is spinning gawking at all the fake tits in the room tonight," she warned, doing nothing to move out of his hold.

"I don't gawk at anyone but you, love," he replied confidently.

"Yes, you are rather loyal that way, I suppose," she said with pretend indifference. "Come on, babes. Go downstairs and have a drink, yeah? I need to finish up."

"All right, fine," he grumbled, giving her one last peck before releasing her and leaving the bathroom.

She grinned and shook her head as she picked up her lip stick.

 **The Chase Restaurant, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

"Matthew! Matthew! This way, please! Over here! Matthew!"

Matthew smiled politely and turned his head left and right, trying to stay calm amidst the glare of the camera flashes. Since this was a wrap party, he was able to dress more casually, jeans, white dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, no tie, sport jacket, all compliments of Armani. The weather was getting a bit crisper these days at the end of the month, and it had been raining for the past few days. He stood on the red carpet and posed for some more photos before waving and heading down the tunnel to take the elevator leading up to the restaurant. He had been warned that there would be photographers and a reporter or two upstairs as well, and the plan was for he and the other cast members to pose together as a group when they all arrived.

"Matthew," Lavinia called, smiling and taking his arm once he reached the busy second floor. "Right over here. There's a reporter who's going to ask you some questions. Just smile and be natural. You'll do great."

"Thanks," he said, smiling as they walked. His eyes darted here and there, taking in the crowd and strange faces. This seemed to be a bigger deal than Mary's wrap party for _Paladin_. There were television cameras and spotlights, microphones at the ready to capture his every word. Beyond the media mob, the restaurant was already full of men in business casual and women in cocktail dresses, most of whom he had never seen before and didn't seem to have anything to do with the movie, all of them smiling and laughing and drinking champagne and Martinis.

"All right, so just over here for a photo, then you can go on to the _ET Canada_ reporter over there," Lavinia said, nodding to him.

"Right," Matthew said, observing the procession before him. "How about it? Let's take a picture."

Lavinia blinked in surprise. "Oh, Matthew, no. Production assistants don't take photos on the red carpet."

"This isn't an awards ceremony. It's a wrap party for a movie that you are a very big part of. Now, come on. One photo won't hurt, surely?" he said warmly.

"Oh, all right," she said, smiling at him. "Derek will get a real kick out of seeing me all glammed up, I suppose."

"That's the spirit," he said cheerfully. He escorted her over to the backdrop with the logos of the movie studio, restaurant and event sponsors emblazoned prominently across it. They both smiled as the photographers snapped away.

* * *

Mary waved as she disappeared down the tunnel and slipped into the private elevator. While there were numerous paparazzi about, word about the wrap party hadn't circulated very far, so there weren't any fans standing behind barriers and crying out for autographs and selfies. Truly, she loved evenings like this, probably more than the awards shows, if she was being honest. A wrap party signalled the end of a project, and in this moment, before the movie was released and the box office numbers came in, she was allowed to feel proud and satisfied with the work she'd done. Playing Christina had seemed like a consolation prize at first when she was denied the lead role, but now that filming was over, she was pleased with how it all had turned out. The character was far more complex than she originally thought, and she felt her performance would stand out despite it being in a supporting role. All in all, it had been a very productive summer.

She reached the top floor and was ushered towards the next line for photographs and interviews. She saw Rick and Natalie further on ahead. They would all gather together to pose for photos shortly. Her eyes wandered to Matthew, who was standing tall amidst the crowd, laughing as he answered a reporter's questions. Lavinia was watching from the background, glancing at her phone every few seconds, probably to move him on when the requisite time was up.

She had been too busy today to take a look at his outfit for the evening. She knew that Armani had sent over something, through DD, but she was too focused on dealing with her own ensemble and jewellery, as well as making arrangements for Matthew's present. Seeing him now for the first time, she thought he looked quite dashing. The clothes fit him well, a touch of gel to his blond hair giving him a more sophisticated air. He didn't look out of place at all.

"Mary! Mary! This way, please, Mary!"

Her eyes lingered on Matthew for another second before she turned and smiled for the cameras, putting her hand on her hip and tilting her head back in a classic pose.

* * *

"Mmm, I've never been kissed by an Armani model before," Sybil gushed, winking at Matthew.

"Please," he grumbled, looking at her pointedly. "I get enough stick about that from the lads back home. A day hasn't gone by that I haven't got some snarky text message."

"Consider it flattery. We're all just so proud of you," she said.

"I don't, but thanks," he said. "Enjoying the party?"

"Great food. Great drinks. All free. How could I not?" she laughed. "Tom is right jealous!"

"I know. He told me to tell you to stop sending him so many photos. You're using up all of your data, he says," he advised.

"I'm on WiFi," she said dismissively. "Anyway, he's one to talk. You should see how many snaps he sent me from the first bloody debate."

He smiled and shook his head.

"You've been quite popular tonight," she noted. "Are all those people asking for selfies from the movie?"

"Most of them," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "They're mainly crew members, though I don't recall some of their names. It gets to the point that you just smiled and pose whenever someone shoves a phone in your face."

"How utterly dreadful for you," she said drily. "Oh, did Edith call you?"

"I talked to her this afternoon," he confirmed. "I want to go back but I'm not sure yet. I may be working next month. It's all sort of up in the air."

"Ah," she acknowledged. "No closer to a decision, are you?"

"I've got it down to four different projects, and I've got auditions lined up next week," he said. "Thankfully I don't have to fly to LA or New York just yet. They said I could do the first ones here."

"How early would you start if you got one of them?" she asked.

"November for some, not until January for others. I'm trying to keep December as open as possible. I really want to see Mother for Christmas, and Violet too," he said.

"That would be great if you could," she agreed. "I already told Tom that I'm going back for two weeks. The election will be over in early November, so he better not invent some excuse for why he can't go."

"I think he's smart enough to know not to mess with a Crawley girl when she's made up her mind," he joked.

"You're far wiser than he is when it comes to that," she said. "Or maybe it's that I don't follow through on my threats as much as Mary does."

"Or something, yeah," he said, smirking at her. "All right, come on, Dr. Crawley. Let me buy you a drink."

"Why thank you, kind sir," she said, taking his arm and following him to the bar.

* * *

Mary sipped her champagne, smiling and nodding as she listened to the studio executive continue on about this or that. She'd moved from one circle to another over the last hour, slipping into numerous conversations. Even the most boring of producers here had more sway and influence than she did, so it was important to leave them with a good lasting impression.

She turned away for a moment and glanced across the room. She had sent Sybil to keep Matthew entertained. Though she had nothing against Alex, she didn't trust him to spend the party with her boyfriend without mentioning at least five times how ridiculous it was that he had to keep his distance from her. Besides, she didn't really require Anna's assistance at these things, so she wanted her friend to spend time with her husband.

"It's really timely, we think, with this film coming out in the Spring," the executive continued. "There so much focus on relationships these days, whether it be celebrities, or reality television, whatever, but you never actually get into the lives of the couple the way you can with a movie. The audience is going to see how these characters interact, how they present their image to the public – the smiling, happy married couple, for instance – and contrast that with the private reality – a bond that's far weaker than it seems, lies, adultery, revenge, redemption. We think it could be really powerful."

"Let's hope so," she said, nodding in agreement.

"There's something timeless in the story that everyone can relate to, even though these characters appear glamorous and rich and beautiful. The idea that we must behave one way in front of others while being entirely different behind closed doors. It's intriguing, at least, we think so. The key will be to maintain interest all the way through the breakdown and confrontation until the end. Hopefully the story keeps them interested," another executive noted.

She sipped her champagne and smiled politely. Looking out across the room once more, her eyes wandered to the outdoor patio, and she arched her eyebrow, a smirk crossing her lips.

* * *

"It's rather strange, isn't it? A low-rise building here surrounded by all these behemoths," Sybil noted, staring up at the glass and steel skyscrapers around them.

"It's a heritage building, so they couldn't tear it down," Matthew replied. "I think it's quite nice, actually. It's sort of like this oasis in the middle of the concrete jungle."

"There's a metaphor in there, I think," Alex remarked.

Sybil laughed.

"The party seems to have thinned out a bit," she noted, glancing back into the restaurant.

"Most people show up at these things to make an appearance and that's it," Alex said. "The majority of them have jobs that continue on beyond this film, so they don't just put everything on hold to party it up. This project is over and it's on to the next."

"Even still, it feels like the end in some ways," Matthew replied wistfully. "This group will never be together again."

"Aww, muffin," Sybil said, reaching out and pinching his cheek.

"Ow…" he cringed, glaring at her.

"Here you all are," Anna said, coming over to join them.

"At last she has come among us!" Alex called dramatically, putting his arm around her bare shoulders.

"You're hilarious, you know that?" Anna warned, kissing him quickly. "I've just enough time to dance with my husband, and I asked the DJ to play our song, actually."

" _Bad Blood_?!" Alex said excitedly.

Matthew gave Sybil a knowing smirk.

"No, our other song," Anna said, rolling her eyes. "Come on."

"I'll go in too. My lips feel dry, like I need a bit of a touch-up," Sybil noted.

"You're leaving?" Matthew asked.

"Darling, all of this doesn't take care of itself on its own, you know," Sybil said, motioning to her face, then smiling and walking away.

He frowned as she went back into the restaurant with Anna and Alex. Sighing to himself, he turned back around and glanced up at the office towers once more. The air was a bit cool, and some of the heat lamps were turned on. As he looked out across the financial district, he smiled. He had made it through his first Hollywood production and by all accounts was better off at the end of it. There would be decisions to make and steps to plan, as early as tomorrow, but for now, he tried to savour the moment a little bit. Of course, it would be far easier to enjoy the moment, even celebrate, if he could just…

He blinked and turned his head to the side suddenly, and there she was.

She was facing away from him, leaning on the rail of the patio, looking down at the green space in the courtyard below. They had gotten ready separately, so he had only seen her dress for the first time when she made her entrance earlier. It was white, backless, and stopped above her knees. He had stood beside her when they took their group photos, and he couldn't help but slide his hand across her bare back, being able to touch her without anyone noticing feeling so daring and exciting, as though they were getting away with something.

He slowly moved toward her, taking in her figure as he went. She had probably sent Anna out first to distract him and draw Alex and Sybil back inside. Whatever the reason, he didn't care. They were alone out here, just the two of them, and his heart leapt at the opportunity.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked, coming to her side.

"Not really. The lamp is quite warm," she replied, looking over at him. Her expression seemed neutral but he recognized the playfulness in her eyes.

"Why don't you take my coat?" he asked, moving to remove his jacket.

"Oh no, I couldn't," she said, stopping him with something mischievous in the tone of her voice. "What would my boyfriend think if I was seen wearing another man's coat?"

He blinked in surprise at her words, took in her arched eyebrow and teasing smirk.

"Well, we can't have rumours and gossip going around, can we?" he said slowly, watching as she smiled in approval.

"No, we can't. I'm afraid that he has a bit of a temper," she sighed.

He felt a strange mix of emotions. Anger that she would mention another man, even if it was all just for pretend, and something else, a sort of excitement.

"That may be, but he isn't here now, is he?" he said.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"Nothing. Just that tonight, you're free, aren't you? You can do whatever you want, and he wouldn't know," he said smoothly.

"And what could I do, exactly?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him.

"Be who you want to be, for starters," he replied, locking his eyes on hers. "Forget about him and the image that you've so carefully built up for the cameras, and just be yourself, do what you want."

"And what if I want to be a little bit reckless, a little bit foolish, taste a little bit of danger? Won't I regret it afterwards?" she replied.

"Not necessarily," he said smugly.

"And what do you mean by that?" she asked, smiling at him.

"Regret comes because you judge a decision to be a bad one after the fact. Maybe acting a bit recklessly is exactly what you need to do," he explained.

"And the consequences?" she asked.

"You'll deal with them, if there are any," he said.

"Why wouldn't there be?" she asked.

"There may not be, if there are no witnesses to your transgressions," he teased.

"I'm a witness," she noted.

"Then you'll have to decide whether you wish to confess, or not," he stated. "Maybe you'll like it, acting reckless, and all that it leads to."

"You're hardly one to discuss such things with," she said, looking away from him, a smirk on her lips.

"Why not? Don't your trust me?" he asked.

She looked back at him, her eyes moving down to his lips. "Perhaps I don't trust myself around you," she said softly.

"It would be reckless of you to leave here with me then," he said, leaning towards her.

"Quite," she agreed, glancing up at his eyes.

"It would be foolish for you to invite me up to yours," he continued.

"Very," she whispered.

"It would be dangerous for you. You might like it," he growled.

"I probably would," she answered.

"Enough to not regret it," he suggested.

She deliberately looked down his body then slowly back up to his eyes. "Definitely not."

He smiled and shook his head.

She grinned and arched her eyebrows at him.

"Let's go," she said.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 2016**

Mary laughed as they wandered into the apartment, Matthew's coat around her shoulders. With the late hour and her building being but a block away from the restaurant, they managed to make it back without drawing any attention. Sybil had gone ahead, checking that there was no one lurking near the lobby, and she was now ensconced in her room texting with Tom before she fell asleep.

"So, how did you enjoy your first official Hollywood wrap party?" she asked, taking off his coat and wandering into the living room.

"It was nice. I had to remind myself as to why anyone was asking me questions or taking my photo," he joked, following behind her.

"Well, remember this feeling. There's nothing like the early days, when everything seems possible," she said merrily, going into the kitchen to grab them a bottle of sparkling water.

He sat down on the couch and stretched his arms, smiling at how so much had changed for him in such a short time. He looked up and smiled curiously as Mary came back carrying a rectangular box with a bow on it.

"What's this?" he asked as she sat down and placed the box on the coffee table.

"Just a little memento," she said, pouring them two glasses of water. "A gift of sorts."

"A gift? For me? Well," he said, reaching over and pulling on the paper.

"I hope you're surprised by what it is, but not by the fact that I've gotten you a present," she noted, watching him expectantly. "I am capable of such things, you know."

"Of course you are. I would never…oh, Mary…" he exclaimed.

It was a print, or rather a photograph of a scene from _Shattered_ , mounted between two panes of glass, and framed in black wood. The scene was from Nico and Christina's first kiss, and in the photograph, taken from an angle, Mary's eyes were closed, her head tilted just so, her hand caressing Matthew's cheek.

"I hope you like it. Just something small to commemorate our first film together," she said, watching him closely.

He turned and grinned at her. "I love it," he declared. "Thank you so much."

She smiled in relief, then looked down at her lap before speaking again. "I know that when we got back together, I warned you that things would be difficult sometimes, and you said that you could take it. I told you that there would be times that I put my career ahead of you, and I know that I have, and you've handled it all without complaint. This print doesn't make up for not being able to walk the red carpet together, or sit together at awards shows, or dance together at parties, but…"

She was interrupted as she heard music playing suddenly. Looking up, she found his smiling face looking back at her. His phone was placed on the coffee table, piano notes playing from the speaker.

 _'Fixing up a car to drive in it again, searching for the water, hoping for the rain, up and up…'_

He rose to his feet and reached out his hand to her, the smile never leaving his face.

She looked at his hand, then up at his eyes, and smiled herself as she placed her hand in his.

He led her over to the windows, the carpet feeling plush and warm beneath their feet as he took her into hold. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder as his one hand circled her waist while the other came to rest on her back. They swayed back and forth, dancing to the music, no other words needed.

 _'We gonna get it, get it together right now, we gonna get it, get it together somehow, we gonna get it, get it together and fly…'_

 **Toronto Pearson International Airport, Terminal 1, U.S. Departures, Toronto, Canada, October 2016**

"It wouldn't be a very big part at all, but it's a Marvel movie and once you're sort of in the mix with them, they consider you for other projects, or at least that's the theory," Matthew explained. "And it would only be a few weeks in January, so I wouldn't be precluded from doing other projects."

"What will you do between now and then?" Sybil asked as she walked with him towards security screening.

"There's two films I'm thinking about, well, at least I'll be auditioning for them this month. I'd film in November until mid-December, then go back to Downton in time for Christmas. Or, if I don't get them, then I might just head to Downton earlier. I don't know. It sort of depends on what Mary wants to do."

Sybil smiled at him.

"Anyway, so I'll just go for them and see what happens, I guess. No pressure, right?" he said hopefully.

"None that I see. If it works, then great. If not, you'll be in demand again soon once the movie comes out next year," she said encouragingly.

"Right, yeah, that's right," he agreed. "Hey, I was about to move back to Manchester before I landed _Shattered_ , so this is a good spot to be in."

"You don't need to convince me," she said, laughing. "Look, just have fun with it and go for it. You'll do great, darling, really."

He nodded and kissed her, giving her a hug before handing over her luggage. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course. I had to spend time with you before you hit it big and forget all about me," she joked.

"As if that will ever happen," he said.

She found his eyes and smiled. "You're doing great, you know. You're being patient and supportive, and she knows it. I know it's hard. I know it seems unfair sometimes, but it'll get easier. She needs you, and she's beginning to understand that."

He smiled sheepishly. "It's not that difficult. It's nothing compared to what you put Tom through."

She rolled her eyes in the same way that her sisters did. "Please. He had it easy. He's just lucky I married him during medical school before some hot neurosurgeon was able to get his hands on me."

He laughed and hugged her again. "Have a safe flight. Text us when you land."

"Will do. Bye," she said, heading off to the priority line.

 **Optima Concord CityPlace, Downtown Toronto, Canada, October 2016**

"And you mentioned Maple Leaf Square? It's just over there, so well within walking distance," the real estate agent said, pointing out the window at the condo buildings in the distance.

"So Tony won't even need to text me when he needs something. He can just yell out from his terrace," Green joked, turning to smile at Anna. He looked at her curiously when she didn't respond and kept looking at the carpet.

"That's the layout then. The feature sheet you have, and if there's any questions at all, just let me know," the agent said cheerfully, nodding and giving them some space.

"Hey, you all right?" Green asked, coming over to Anna and touching her arm.

"What? Oh, sorry…" she replied, looking up at him. "I wasn't paying attention. What do you think of the place?"

"Nevermind that. What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's nothing," she said distractedly.

"It's obviously something if it's enough to throw off your razor-sharp focus," he said easily. "Come on, Anna. I don't mean to pry, but I find that sometimes it helps to talk to someone outside of the situation. Is it having to do with work?"

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling briefly. "No, it's not work."

He blinked in confusion, then slowly guessed again. "All right, well the last time I was here, you mentioned that you were trying to have a baby. How's that going?"

"Not well. Kudos to you for guessing what's bothering me! Sorry, that was uncalled for. I know I'm being ridiculous, but it's driving me mad. When I was in my teens, I was scared to death about getting pregnant, and now that I want to, it's taking far too long for my liking," she complained.

"You're not being ridiculous at all," he said sympathetically. "Is your husband stressed about it too? Maybe that's part of the problem?"

"No, no, he's great. I couldn't ask for anything more from him. It's just me," she grumbled. "God, why does this have to be so hard?"

"Hey, hey," he said, giving her a hug. "Look, Anna, I can't really relate, but maybe you should think about taking a break from it all? My sister did this thing when she had my niece. She tried for months, then took a couple of months off and it did her a world of good, and she got pregnant straight away when she started trying again."

"I don't think Alex would enjoy that," she said, shaking her head.

"Well, I don't know him, but I'm sure he'd understand. What's important is you and how you're feeling. He'll support you, I'm sure of it," he said, releasing her and rubbing her arms.

"We should go," she said, sniffling a bit. "Did you have any questions for the agent?"

"I think I'm good. We may have a winner. Let's talk about it over lunch," he suggested, holding out his arm.

She nodded and took hold of his arm, walking down the hall and back towards the foyer where the agent was waiting for them.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley,** **Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, October 2016**

"Implants? You want me to get implants?" Mary sputtered incredulously, staring at her Aunt Rosamund's image on her tablet. "Are you actually insane?"

"It's just a suggestion," Rosamund replied calmly. "You remember when we had your teeth fixed, it helped immensely."

"That was different! Aligning and whitening my teeth are hardly comparable to having plastic surgery!" Mary objected.

"I only mention it because with filming over on _Shattered_ , if you were to have any work done, now would be the time to do it. It gives you enough recovery time before the next series of _Paladin_ begins, if it goes ahead," Rosamund said.

"That's not funny, not in the slightest," Mary said, frowning at her over the video conference.

"Mary, be realistic, please. The rumours about Henry leaving will not abate. The studio is having serious discussions about the future of the show beyond this next season, and if they are going to make this season the last one, they need to figure it out now. All I am saying is that you will have a career beyond the show regardless, and now is the time to hone your image. Leaving it until later will draw too much suspicion," Rosamund said.

"I can't see how showing up on set with my boobs up to my neck would draw anyone's attention," Mary muttered.

"Oh, grow up, won't you?" Rosamund chided her. "Do you honestly think that none of the women you routinely compete against haven't had work done? You're lucky, Mary. Your face, your body, for the most part, are already good enough. I just want you to meet with the specialist and see if it wouldn't make sense to have a bit of a lift and a tuck here and there, that's all."

"I don't need to meet with a surgeon and look at mock-ups showing me how my face would look with a different nose, thank you," Mary said archly.

"You say that now because you're still young and you don't notice any blemishes, but this business is unforgiving, Mary. You'll be thirty by the time you leave the show. If you want a long career, you must put in the necessary work now as it will be too late to fix things when you're older."

"Goodness, I had no idea that things were so dire," she said with mock surprise. "Let's hope Matthew's career continues to track upwards. Someone will have to support us when I'm retried, barefoot and pregnant at the ripe old age of 34."

"You're being childish now. I never said your career was so limited, and in any event, marrying Matthew is hardly what I would call a wise move," Rosamund replied.

"I'll choose to ignore that last comment," Mary retorted. "Focus on lining up my next audition, please. If the studio says that they want me to go up a cup size, we can revisit this discussion. Goodbye."

"Bye," Rosamund said tersely, hanging up the call.

Mary rolled her eyes and got up from her chair. She took a sip of water and went over to the full-length mirror, turning sideways to look at her profile. Lifting up her shirt, she ran her hand over her stomach, then raised her bra slightly. Frowning, she was distracted by the ringing of her mobile.

"Hello, darling," she said, smiling as she answered Matthew's call.

"Hi. Did you want me to grab you something for lunch? I'm just on my way back now," Matthew said.

She glanced back at her reflection in the mirror, smoothing her hand over her stomach again. "You know what? I'm fine. See you in a bit."

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, October 2016**

Mary sipped her orange juice, glancing out the large kitchen windows to the patio beyond. Alex and Matthew were standing around the barbecue, talking and drinking beer. The baseball game, apparently involving Toronto's team, was playing on the large tablet screen that the boys had taken outside, as well as on the television in the kitchen. Mary ignored it, but Anna would glance over every so often.

"So what do you mean you're on a break?" Mary asked, looking over at Anna as she stirred the mashed potatoes.

"We're just taking some time off, is all," Anna explained, not turning away from the stove. "I'm just spending the next while not thinking constantly of having children."

"So you're taking a break from trying, or you're taking a break from having sex altogether?" Mary asked.

"We're abstaining for a few weeks," Anna said quietly. "It's not that big of a deal, really."

"Does Alex think that it's not a big deal?" Mary enquired.

Anna sighed and looked over at her. "He was surprised when I brought it up, and he's probably a bit disappointed, I imagine, but he's been good about it."

"And you don't miss it?" Mary asked in disbelief.

"Of course I miss it!" Anna complained. "I miss it terribly, but I just hated obsessing about getting pregnant all the time, and taking a break has helped me clear my mind a bit."

"Well, if you think you know what you're doing, then good luck with it," Mary said, still unconvinced. "I can't imagine that Matthew would be too pleased if I said I wanted to abstain for a month. I can't imagine even suggesting it myself, if I'm honest."

"It's not that long," Anna said weakly. "Married couples don't have much sex anyway, isn't that what people say?"

"Some do, yes," Mary said.

The door to the patio opened and Matthew poked his head in. "The ham's resting now. We should be ready in about ten minutes."

"Got it," Anna called, going to the cupboard and taking out the serving platters.

Mary got up from her stool and walked around the island to the stove. She helped Anna prepare the large bowls of corn, carrots, asparagus, mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese and carried them out to the dining table.

"I thought one was supposed to have turkey at Thanksgiving," Mary noted as they checked over all the place settings.

"Alex hates turkey," Anna replied. "We only have it when we go back to Mum's for Christmas. Thanksgiving is always ham or prime rib."

"And why is it in October, and not November?" Mary asked.

"It's a day designated to give thanks, the second Monday of the month," Anna said, uncorking the bottle of white wine. "It's not linked to the pilgrims or anything like what they do in America. It's the day that the government decided would be Thanksgiving decades ago."

"Ah," Mary replied.

"Dinner is served," Matthew declared, coming into the dining room and walking around to Mary's side of the table. He kissed her quickly, then held out her chair for her. She smiled and sat down and he did the same. Alex brought the ham in and placed it on the centre of the table.

"That looks delicious," Mary said.

Anna took her seat and Alex took up the carving knife and fork.

"Now, it's a bit of Lewis family tradition that we actually give thanks for something before we eat," he said. "So, I'm very thankful this year for my beautiful wife, and good health, and good friends."

Anna smiled at him.

"You've left nothing for the rest of us," Matthew complained.

They all laughed.

"What about you?" Mary said, nudging Matthew in the side.

Matthew thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded. "I'm thankful for old friends and new opportunities."

"Well said," Alex remarked.

Mary and Anna shared a glance as Alex sliced the ham and Matthew passed the side dishes around.

"No potatoes for you, Mary?" Alex asked, glancing over at her sparsely filled plate.

"I'll just stick with the corn and carrots, I think," Mary said pleasantly. "A small slice of ham, please, Alex."

Alex gave her a smaller slice, then sat down and raised his wine glass.

"Happy Thanksgiving, everyone," he said.

"Happy Thanksgiving," they echoed.

He clinked glasses with Anna, then took a sip himself.

Anna sipped her wine, then took up her knife and fork and cut a piece of her ham. Matthew and Alex began talking about the playoff baseball game going on as they ate, but she barely paid attention.

Mary took small bites of her food, drinking more water than wine. She smiled and nodded along as sports dominated the conversation at first. When Toronto hit a home run, Alex and Matthew cheered and high-fived each other. Alex gave Anna a kiss as well, though her friend's smile didn't seem nearly as enthusiastic as she'd seen it before.

Shaking her head slightly, Mary accepted Matthew's kiss to her cheek. She banished all pessimistic thoughts from her mind and took another spoonful of corn, determined to enjoy the evening and think about all of life's problems tomorrow.

* * *

 **Song Credits:**

 **Bad Blood -** Taylor Swift, (2014), Big Machine Records

 **Up &Up - **Coldplay, (2015), Parlophone/Atlantic


	16. Chapter 16

**Previously:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, October 2016**

"No potatoes for you, Mary?" Alex asked, glancing over at her sparsely filled plate.

"I'll just stick with the corn and carrots, I think," Mary said pleasantly. "A small slice of ham, please, Alex."

Alex gave her a smaller slice, then sat down and raised his wine glass.

"Happy Thanksgiving, everyone," he said.

"Happy Thanksgiving," they echoed.

He clinked glasses with Anna, then took a sip himself.

Anna sipped her wine, then took up her knife and fork and cut a piece of her ham. Matthew and Alex began talking about the playoff baseball game going on as they ate, but she barely paid attention.

Mary took small bites of her food, drinking more water than wine. She smiled and nodded along as sports dominated the conversation at first. When Toronto hit a home run, Alex and Matthew cheered and high-fived each other. Alex gave Anna a kiss as well, though her friend's smile didn't seem nearly as enthusiastic as she'd seen it before.

Shaking her head slightly, Mary accepted Matthew's kiss to her cheek. She banished all pessimistic thoughts from her mind and took another spoonful of corn, determined to enjoy the evening and think about all of life's problems tomorrow.

 **Chapter 16:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, October 24, 2016**

Anna came downstairs and found her husband looking over his phone, already fully dressed in suit and tie. She walked over to the kitchen island and saw her usual breakfast already laid out for her. Toasted raisin bread with a knob of butter on the side, small bowl of blueberries and a glass of orange juice. Sitting down, she took a sip and smiled.

"Thanks for breakfast, babes. This is perfect," she noted.

"Sure. Okay, I've got to get going. Where am I picking you up for lunch?" he asked, coming around the island towards her.

She blinked in surprise. "Oh. Shit, was that today? Mary and I are in meetings all day dealing with the premiere next month and her next project. Sorry, I thought we were having lunch tomorrow."

"No, it was today," he said curtly.

"Um, well I'll make sure I'm home right on time for dinner tonight, all right?" she offered.

"I'm out tonight. I have clients in from California and I'm taking them out," he said.

She frowned. "Oh. I didn't see that in the calendar."

"It's there. I put it in a couple of weeks ago, just like lunch. Bye. Have a good day," he said, kissing her quickly before heading out the door to the garage.

"Bye," she said, sighing as she spread butter on her toast. The roar of the Lamborghini rang out shortly after, signalling her husband racing from the house.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, October 24, 2016**

Matthew rubbed his face as he came out of his bedroom and into the living room. He blinked several times as he neared the kitchen, smiling at the vision before him.

Mary was leaning back against the counter, sipping her mug of tea while she watched the news broadcast on her tablet. Though he had a perfectly good television in the living room, she liked being in the kitchen to start her day, a habit she developed back in London. At Downton Abbey, she hardly ever went near the kitchen.

He took in her long legs, the skimpy pair of white boy shorts and matching camisole, her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. His morning arousal flared as he approached her and kissed her softly.

"Good morning," she said warmly, taking another sip of tea.

"Mmm, good morning," he replied lazily. "Thank you for last night. It was absolutely amazing."

She laughed and rolled her eyes, giving him a pointed glare and slapping his bare chest. "You don't need to thank me the morning after we have a shag. It implies something about our relationship that I don't believe either one of us wants."

"What? That I appreciate my brilliant, gorgeous, creative and flexible girlfriend?" he joked, kissing her lips again playfully.

"No, that you're thanking me for having sex with you and you're about to take out your wallet and hand over my payment," she retorted, arching her eyebrow at him.

His eyes widened in shock and his mouth fell open. "Crikey," he mumbled.

She looked at him pointedly, a smirk coming to her lips. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Me as your whore for hire? Getting to boss me around for the evening, having me obey your every command?"

He grunted and took a deep breath. "I should hope that I wouldn't have to pay for it, girlfriend or no."

"You wouldn't be able to afford me, to be fair," she teased, pecking him on the lips. "However, I'm not against adding that to our list of roleplays, if I deem you've earned it."

He laughed and shook his head, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of orange juice. "I'm surprised you're still here. Don't you have meetings with Anna all day?"

"We don't start until ten. I've got time," she said easily, taking one last sip of her tea before she went over and put the mug in the sink. "Why? Trying to kick me out after you've had your fill of me?"

She yelped as he came up behind her, placing his arms on either side of her and pressing against her back. "Hardly," he drawled, kissing her neck. "I just don't want you being caught leaving here in the daylight. What if someone sees you and puts it all over social media?"

She smiled and flexed her bottom against his arousal. "Mary Crawley spotted leaving Armani model's apartment. Is there trouble with Henry?"

He chuckled and kissed his way along her shoulder to the nape of her neck and back up to her ear. "Mary Crawley keeping boy toy on the side like a boss while boyfriend Henry Talbot toils away in Australia."

"Mmm, I like the sound of that. 'Boy toy' has such a pleasant ring to it," she said, smiling as she turned and kissed him, reaching her hand up to tangle into his hair and sliding her tongue into his mouth.

"Just trying to be of service, my Lady," he joked, rubbing against her intently.

"You can be of service in the bathroom," she said sultrily. "I've just enough time for a long, hot shower."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"And what will be the charge for that, boy?" she asked haughtily, leaning her head back against his shoulder as they grinded together.

He smiled as she moaned from his hands sliding under her camisole and across her bare skin. "You paid for the full service package, my Lady. Everything is included."

"Well, then," she teased, turning in his hold and pushing his boxer briefs down his legs. "Come this way."

He groaned and quickly swept his underwear off the floor and followed after her to the bathroom.

 **Law Office of George Murray, Q.C., Fleet Street, London, England, October 24, 2016**

"My Lord," George Murray nodded as he came into the boardroom. "Good afternoon."

"Murray," Robert said, shaking his lawyer's hand and sitting back down. "Now what was so important that you couldn't mention it over the phone?"

Murray swallowed nervously as he placed the file folder down on the table and took a seat. "Well, you see, my Lord, we've had a bit of an issue come up with your tax shelter."

"What sort of issue, Murray?" Robert asked warily.

"You will recall that we had the Panama Papers leak last Spring," Murray said.

"Yes, and you assured me that my name was not included in any of the documents," Robert said, frowning at him.

"My Lord, there are 11.5 million documents included in the leak," Murray said. "I said at the time that we did not see any exposure for you in the initial cull, however you must understand that journalists across the world have been poring over the papers for months now. Normally, your name would not be considered of note if discovered, given the heads of state and celebrities that have been involved…"

"However?" Robert demanded.

"However, my Lord, there has been a renewed examination of the papers as of late, specifically focused on uncovering any connections between those linked with the Brexit vote and offshore tax havens," Murray advised.

"Good God, Murray!" Robert snarled, getting up from his chair and stomping over to the window. "There is absolutely nothing illegal about maintaining tax shelters outside of the country. My family has been doing it for decades!"

"Yes, my Lord, of course there isn't," Murray said, watching the Earl's tense form carefully. "It's more the perception, you see. In these uncertain times, the public does not want to be reminded of the…privileges…that the rich enjoy. It's particularly controversial given the outcome of the vote, of course."

"Murray, you know quite well that the vote did not go at all the way that I wanted!" Robert growled. "We wanted the government to get a bit of a scare, not to lose the bloody plot!"

"Yes, my Lord. However, the way the markets reacted both before and after the vote, well, you did profit from it, intended or not," Murray reminded him.

Robert sighed and shook his head in disgust. "Be that as it may, what's the point of all this? You're saying that my name may end up splashed across the pages of The Guardian? Fine. It'll come and go easily enough."

"That may be true if all we were dealing with was your finances, my Lord," Murray said, steeling himself as he opened the file folder.

"What are you referring to?" Robert asked, frowning as he came back to the table.

"I'm afraid that there is a reference to Ms. Moorsum in some of the leaked documents, my Lord," Murray said shakily, sliding a document across to the Earl.

Robert's eyes widened as he scanned over the document. He looked up at Murray in concern. "Nothing directly linking us together, though, surely?"

"Nothing that we know of yet, my Lord," Murray said, holding the worried man's gaze. "However, you will recall that payments for both Ms. Moorsum and her son were arranged through RCC Holdings."

Robert blinked and sat down heavily back in his chair. "My God," he muttered.

"There is no guarantee that anyone will discover these different pieces of information and link them together, my Lord," Murray said. "It is a risk, yes, but a small one, for the moment."

"However, there are people digging through these documents as we speak," Robert said. "Who knows what they will uncover, and what they will choose to do with it?"

"I would expect that we will be contacted privately before anything is made public, my Lord," Murray suggested. "There ought to be an…opportunity…to keep this contained before it gets out of hand."

"You're assuming that whoever uncovers my secrets will be motivated by money, Murray," Robert said tersely, frowning and stroking his chin. "Not everyone is looking for a payoff."

"Well, the only other type of person I can imagine would be someone who hates you so much that he wants to see you fall, to be humiliated in public," Murray said. "You have rivals, my Lord, but hardly anyone I would call a bitter enemy."

"Not that we know of at the moment, Murray," Robert corrected him. "My family has a long history. There are always those who are plotting against us that we know nothing of until they reveal themselves."

"Yes, my Lord," Murray said. "Might I suggest that we ought to notify Lady Grantham about the possible risk?"

"No," Robert said firmly. "You will not mention a word of this to Cora. As far as she knows, our offshore holdings were part of the original leak, and nothing more has come up. She most certainly does not need to hear the name of Jane Moorsum again."

"Yes, my Lord," Murray said, making a note on his legal pad.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, October 26, 2016**

"The house looks great. I was genuinely scared when I was walking up the path," Matthew said, smiling as he sipped his beer.

"Anna did it all," Alex replied drily. "She's got a whole costume and everything for when she's handing out the candy."

"Ah, and what about you? Yours must match with hers, I imagine?" Matthew asked.

"No, I won't be here. I'm working late that night. There's a conference call with Hong Kong that I have to jump on," Alex replied.

Matthew frowned at him. "Oh. Well, that's too bad. I know how much you love scaring the kids."

"Yeah, well, maybe next year," Alex said, sipping his beer.

Matthew ignored the hockey game on the large television and turned to face his friend. "Hey, you all right?"

Alex looked up from staring vacantly at the coffee table. "Yeah, sure."

"You seem a bit…off," Matthew noted. "It's not because of the whole abstaining thing, is it? You said you were fine with that."

"I am fine with it," Alex said, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm just trying to give her space, that's all."

"I don't think you need to give her space," Matthew said, frowning at him. "Abstaining doesn't mean abstaining from intimacy, it just means not putting pressure on yourselves to conceive, that's all, or at least that's what I understood it to mean in your situation."

"Well, she'll tell me when she's ready to be intimate again," Alex said, swigging his beer.

"And what about what you want?" Matthew asked.

Alex glared at him, then went back to watching the hockey game.

"Come on, mate," Matthew said. "How many times have you listened to me whinge about Mary? I'm just trying to help you out, that's all."

"I'm fine. We're fine," Alex said curtly. "I've told her a million times that she shouldn't feel any pressure. I don't want her to feel any pressure. But, for whatever reason, she does. So, if removing myself from the situation helps her, then I'll do it. I'm not saying I like it. I'm not saying I want to. But, if that's what she needs, then I'll do it. I am doing it."

"But you're still her husband. You're not just housemates," Matthew said.

"We're fine," Alex said.

Matthew nodded and turned back to the game.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, October 27, 2016**

"So is it an origin story, or not?" Mary asked, snuggling against Matthew as they lounged on the couch.

"It's sort of both," he explained. "The main part of the story takes place in Wakanda, in Africa, explaining how Black Panther gets his powers and the back story of his people and all of that. There will be references to what happened in Civil War because it's supposed to lead them towards the next Avengers movie and tie it all together and so on."

"Ah, so if you get the part, where will you be filming?" she asked.

"I'm not quite sure yet. They've got locations set up for South Africa, Singapore, Chicago and Atlanta from what I understand. My part's quite small so I think I'd only be at Pinewood in Atlanta. I don't think I need to be in any of the scenes they film in Africa, but I guess I'll see, if and when I get the part," he reasoned.

"My boyfriend – an Armani model and a Marvel actor – goodness, your stock is rising," she teased.

"Maybe Aunt Rosamund will see fit to swap me in as your boyfriend eventually if this continues?" he joked.

"Darling, as wonderful as that would be, you'd either have to win an Oscar first, or my career would have to plummet off the precipice. You shouldn't let Aunt Rosamund's opinion count for much. I know I don't," Mary said casually.

On screen, they watched the airport fight scene from _Captain America: Civil War_. Matthew was supposedly doing some research following his audition for the _Black Panther_ movie last week, but in reality, he just liked watching superhero movies a lot. Mary didn't mind. After a week of meetings and conference calls dealing with everything from her promotional schedule for the _Paladin_ premiere in November, different projects she was up for, and even styling choices for the SAG Awards and Golden Globes, should she be nominated, she was fine with relaxing tonight.

She frowned as she watched Scarlett Johansson's Black Widow do a scene with Chadwick Boseman's Black Panther. Scarlett was wearing a black form-fitting combat suit, with the zipper conveniently undone to show off a hint of cleavage.

"Do you like her boobs?" she asked.

He frowned. "Sure."

"No, really," she continued. "Do you like how big they are?"

"I like them, yes," he said, sitting up slightly and looking at her curiously. "She's got a nice body. Why?"

"Well what if they weren't as big? Would you still think she was good looking?" she asked, drawing back a bit and watching him carefully.

"I don't think she's good looking just because of her breasts, so yes, I would still think she was good looking," he replied. "But they are nice the way they are now."

"Yes, but she's not a good actress just because of the size of her breasts," she noted.

"I don't think she's that good of an actress really, to be honest," he answered. "She's all right."

She rolled her eyes. "Men."

"What?" he asked.

"You just said that she had a nice body, and now you're saying she's not that good of an actress. Why can't she both? Why can't she have a nice body and be taken seriously as an actress at the same time?" she demanded.

"What?" he asked, completely perplexed. "One has nothing to do with the other. I don't think she's any better or worse of an actress just because she's good-looking. She isn't that great of an actress because she doesn't have very much range, in my opinion. Admittedly, I haven't seen all of her work, but do I think she'll have a career like Meryl Streep or Dame Maggie? No. That doesn't mean she's a bad actress. I just don't think she's spectacular, that's all, and her body has nothing to do with it."

"All right, then name your top five best actresses then," she said.

"Why?" he asked, pressing pause on the remote to stop the movie from playing further.

"Just do it," she pressed. "Who are the five spectacular actresses out there, in your mind?"

"All right, well, there's you," he began.

"You can't name me first," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Why not?" he asked. "I think you're great."

"But I can't be the best actress you can think of, surely?" she said suspiciously.

"You're in my top five," he countered, staring at her until she sighed and relented. "So, there's you, erm…Meryl Streep, I think Amy Adams is quite good, I like a lot of what Emily Blunt has done lately, that's four…and, erm…Cate Blanchett has always been a favourite of mine, actually. There, five."

She frowned as she went over his list. There wasn't anyone on there who had any obvious plastic surgery done, as far as she knew.

"I see," she said shortly.

"Why do you ask? Who's in your top five?" he asked.

"Your list is decent. I'd probably find room for Lupita and Anne Hathaway somewhere in there. They're both brilliant," she mused.

"Right, yeah," he agreed. "I won't have any scenes with Lupita if I get the part in _Black Panther_ , sadly."

He started the movie again, rewinding back a few minutes. He eased back on the couch and she snuggled against his chest again.

"Do you like my breasts?" she asked suddenly.

He coughed and immediately paused the movie, sitting up and staring at her incredulously.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, nodding his head. "Yes! Of course I do. I love your breasts. They're fantastic."

She rolled her eyes. "Calm down. I'm being serious."

"So am I!" he retorted. "Why do you even need to ask?"

"All right, yes, I know you love them," she allowed. "But what if…erm…what if they were bigger? Would you like that?"

He frowned and looked at her cautiously. "I doubt it would be possible to enjoy them even more than I already do. What do you mean 'if they were bigger'? If you had them augmented, you mean?"

"Yes," she said, trying to sound casual, but failing. "What if I got implants? Would you like that?"

His brow creased in concern. "I probably would, yes. But that doesn't mean you should."

"What's that mean?" she asked, frowning at him in exasperation. "Do you think I should get my breasts done or not?"

"Those are two completely different questions," he protested. "I love your breasts. Would I like them if they were bigger? Probably, yes. Do I think you should change them? No, absolutely not! But, it's your body, so I won't presume to tell you what to do with it."

"God, you're being so annoying," she complained. "What are you saying? You like big boobs, but you don't like them on me?"

He shook his head in frustration, his face cringing as he tried to sort out where this conversation had even come from.

"I don't want you to change anything about your body. I love your body the way it is. In fact, I'm rather obsessed with it. I think about you and your body constantly. Could I be any more clear about that?" he asked, looking at her pointedly.

Though annoyance still bubbled in her chest, a slight blush came to her cheeks to hear him speaking so passionately about her.

"Now, I like blonde hair. That doesn't mean I want you go to get blonde hair. I like long hair. If you had to cut your hair for a part, or whatever, I wouldn't love it, but I wouldn't forbid you from doing it either. The nature of our jobs means that we change our appearance regularly – whether it be wearing a wig, or something as drastic as prosthetics or whatever. The point is that when we leave the set, we're supposed to go back to being who we are, and who you are is the woman I see before me right now, the woman I love. If you want to change some part of yourself, then I'll support you, within reason, but I don't want you to change a thing," he stated firmly.

"So you don't think I need bigger breasts?" she asked.

"Most certainly not. Why? Who does? Did Henry say something?" he demanded.

"No, no, it wasn't him, although he probably would be all for it," she muttered. "Aunt Rosamund wants me to see a doctor just to look over some suggestions on what he could do for me."

"What?" he almost shouted. "Your own agent thinks you need to get work done?"

"Well, as distasteful as it sounds, her job is to look into all possible ways for me to expand my career," she said.

"Darling, for God's sake, someone who claims to be on your side isn't supposed to be pointing out everything she thinks is wrong with you," he argued.

"Be realistic," she said patiently. "Do you think I got the part of Jade because of my winning personality? They wanted someone good looking for the part, in addition to everything else. Like it or not, my appearance, especially being a woman, is very important."

"Fine," he admitted. "But your appearance is amazing already. Come on, Mary. You don't need plastic surgery. It's insane to even think it. Look at Charlize Theron. She won her Oscar while looking absolutely hideous."

"Hmm, that is true," she accepted.

"Do you want to get any work done?" he asked.

"No. I told Aunt Rosamund that the very idea was ridiculous, but it isn't as if other women don't have the odd nose job, or botox, or lip implants or what have you. If I did get anything done, now would be the time before I start filming again," she explained.

"Maybe I should get some work done, too," he said easily.

She frowned at him. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Well, if I'm going to be competing against Chris Pratt and Richard Armitage and Michael Fassbender and all these fit blokes, then maybe I should get some help. I could always get this wrinkle on my forehead lasered off, or have some fat sucked off my sides, maybe even get my jaw line enhanced or implants in my arse. Male plastic surgery is a thing, you know. It would certainly beat going to the gym every day," he mused.

"No! Absolutely not!" she objected. "First off, men aren't judged nearly as harshly as women are, especially in this business. But mainly, I don't want you to change anything. You're already super fit as it is. Who knows? They might ask you to gain weight and let yourself go a little for your next role."

He laughed and shook his head, looking at her pointedly. "Well, I don't know if I could do that. My girlfriend would surely hate it if I gained a stone or two and really let it all hang out."

"Your girlfriend loves the part of you that hangs out, actually," she countered, smirking at him as she came into his arms. "In fact, I'd say I'm rather obsessed with it. I think about it, and you, constantly."

He chuckled, hugging her close and kissing her soundly. "I'm sorry, Lady Mary, but you will just have to make do with being a brilliant actress and completely, naturally, and absolutely gorgeous, I'm afraid."

"Mmm, do you promise to always find me hot even if I don't have the chest to compete with some of these other models and actresses?" she asked.

"For the record, I don't find you hot just because of your body. And the day that I don't find you hot, you can cut it off me, because there will surely be something very, very wrong with me," he said, kissing her again.

She reached down to grope him between his legs. "Now we can't have that. I would much rather enjoy it attached to you where it belongs."

She laughed freely as he pushed her on to her back and kissed all over her neck. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she sighed happily as he quickly unbuttoned her shirt and reached around to undo her bra. Groaning at the feel of his mouth on her breasts, she ran her fingers through his hair, delighted to let him show her just what he thought of her body.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, October 31, 2016**

"Trick or treat!"

Anna smiled at the gaggle of children who were gathered on her front porch, bouncing up and down and holding up their pillow cases and baskets. She passed out her small packs of Skittles and other candies, commenting on how great each of their costumes were.

"Thank you, Mrs. Lewis!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Lewis!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Lewis!"

She shared a knowing grin and waved to the parents waiting at the end of the driveway as the children scampered off. Halloween in her neighbourhood was never terribly busy. There weren't a lot of families with young children to begin with, and not every house participated, either. Still, she liked doing what she could. It was nice to decorate the house and dress up a bit. It reminded her of her childhood back in England, when she and her friends would wander all over the place for candy. It was funny how back in Mum's tiny lower-class town, everyone had jack-o'-lanterns, and yet here in her rich enclave of millionaires, most people couldn't be bothered.

Closing the door behind her, she set the candy bowl down and went into the sitting room to wait for her next rabble of trick-or-treaters. She had probably spent more time on her own costume than she had even decorating the house over the past week. Wary of the children coming to her door, she had eliminated a number of options, including the Harley Quinn outfit that Alex had bought her at Comic-Con months ago. She chose instead an entirely safe and family-rated panda costume, though far more sleek and easier to walk in, with black leggings and a hooded top with big eyes and fluffy ears. She picked up her tablet and flicked over her emails and messages again, knowing she had a good few minutes before the next group came through.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she looked at the screen, her mind wandering. She resisted the urge to text her husband and see how he was doing. They generally didn't bother each other at work unless they knew they had time to chat, and with Alex on a conference call tonight, she didn't want to interrupt.

A sigh escaped her lips. She wouldn't even know what to say to him even if he was free to talk. Communicating had become so hard over the past few weeks, and she couldn't even explain why. They still talked, they still texted, they still joked and laughed, still ate their meals together when they could. Nothing had changed, except that they weren't having sex, but that wasn't a huge deal anyway. In the first year of their long distance relationship, they had sex once in six months.

She glanced over at the flower arrangement on the coffee table and frowned. No, the lack of sex wasn't the problem. There was just something off, something not right between them. They talked, but not with the same easiness they usually did. They joked and laughed, but it was a bit forced, a bit contrived. They ate their meals together but didn't really talk about anything. They were going through the motions, doing everything expected of them, but not really living together the way they usually did.

Before she could ponder their problems, or even think about how to solve them, the doorbell rang and she put her smile back on to go see to the children.

* * *

Alex shut off the engine of the Ferrari and got out of the car. With the weather now getting colder, it was approaching the time when he would stop driving his sports cars and store them for the winter. As such, he drove a different car every few days so he could get the most enjoyment out of these last moments. Last week, he had driven the Lamborghini on Monday and Tuesday, the NSX on Wednesday and Thursday and the Ferrari on Friday and again today. He pressed the remote and the car alarm chirped before he left the garage. Normally he would go into the house through the garage, but today he chose to go outside first, punch in the security code to close the garage door, and walk around the house to the front door.

He smiled slightly at the intricate Halloween decorations all across the front of the house. The yard was full of foam gravestones and carved pumpkins, their candles having long been put out now that trick or treating was well over. There were friendly ghosts with broad smiles hanging from the trees, and black cats guarding the path leading to the front porch. The shrubs were covered in white netting and spider webs made from yarn were placed around the front door. It was all quite the production. He was sorry he hadn't seen it in all its glory earlier.

Pressing his finger to the door scanner, he sighed as he opened the door and went into the house. The foyer was still lit, but the ground floor was dark, indicating Anna was already upstairs. She was probably asleep already, he mused, throwing off his shoes and shuffling through to the kitchen. He turned on the potlights above the island and removed his suit jacket, tossing it on a bar stool before getting a Coke out of the fridge. Leaning on the marble counter, he took a long sip, staring out to the darkened backyard.

In all the years he had known Anna, he always had the answers. He knew he loved her from the moment he met her. He loved how she seemed quiet and unassuming, but was friendly and outgoing with those she was close to. He loved how fearless she was, having never left England before but not letting that stop her from seeing the world. He loved that she refused to be defined by her circumstances – coming from a broken home, having no relationship at all with her father, growing up poor. She was one of the hardest working people he had ever met, and threw herself into everything she did. He knew Harvard graduates, third generation rich kids and corporate executives who didn't have half the work ethic and discipline that she did. He knew he there was an attraction between them from the beginning, and he had to patiently work through her possible fears so they could be together – first their disparate backgrounds, then the prospect of a long distance relationship, and finally the idea of a life far different than she had ever imagined. He took on all of her reservations and objections, never wavering and never letting his own fears consume him, until the day he proposed and she said yes and everything came good.

He frowned as his eyes wandered to the empty breakfast table and over to the darkened television above the mantle. This was the first time that he felt that there was an actual separation between them, a distance that was far greater than when they were physically divided by an entire ocean. And worse, he had no idea how to deal with it. He got the sense that the more he pushed, the more she retreated, and so he pulled back, against his instincts, and convinced himself to wait for her to set the pace of what they would do next. Now it had been three weeks since they'd last had sex, and even though he missed that part of their relationship, other parts were missing too, and he felt helpless, unable to do anything but watch them fade away.

He crumpled up the Coke can and tossed it in the recycling bin underneath the island. For a moment, he contemplated just watching hockey and falling asleep on the couch in the family room, but he shook his head and grabbed his jacket, forcing himself to go upstairs and go to bed.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, October 31, 2016**

"This is absolutely ridiculous," Mary grumbled, sitting patiently as Matthew fiddled with his phone and kept pointing it at the television.

"Hush," he said, frowning at his phone screen, then pointing it again at the screen on the wall. "You agreed."

"Only because it's a tradition, but still," she muttered, sighing as she watched him work.

The television flickered and the video conference screen finally came up.

"Aha! There we go!" he chirped in triumph. "All right, now first, Sybil…"

She straightened her posture and adjusted her crown, then finally smiled as Sybil's face came on the screen.

"Hello!" Sybil called cheerfully.

"Hello, darling," Mary replied, grinning at the whiskers painted on her face and the cat ears she was wearing on her head. "Don't you look rather cute?"

"I'm the Snapchat cat filter! Get it?" Sybil joked, opening her eyes wide and sticking her tongue out.

"Yes, we gathered that," Matthew said, coming over and sitting down next to Mary. He slid his arm along the back of the couch behind her shoulders. "Where's Tom?"

"Right here, right here," Tom called, coming into the camera shot. "Top of the morning to ye!"

Mary rolled her eyes at her brother-in-law's tiny green hat. "It's night time, for one, and that's not even an Irish saying anymore, for another."

"I could put on my Donald Trump mask, if you like," Tom countered.

"No thanks. Save that one for Sybil. We don't need to see what you'd be grabbing," Matthew said wryly. "Ow!"

"Don't be vulgar. It's not funny," Mary said, slapping him again.

"Where's Edith? Do we have her yet?" Sybil asked.

"Hello? Hello? Here I am!" Edith called, her video box opening up on the screen as she joined the call. "Can you see me?"

The four of them laughed as Edith appeared wearing a blue wig with a pointy hat on her head.

"What in the hell are you supposed to be?" Sybil asked, laughing at her sister.

"She's a blue crayon! Oh, that's brilliant!" Mary said, applauding heartily.

"Thank you, thank you," Edith said, smiling and nodding her head as if taking a bow. "I've got the dress to go with it too, see?"

She stood up so all of them could see the form-fitting blue sleeveless dress she was wearing, complete with black squiggly lines and the _Crayola_ logo along her side.

"Crikey," Tom exclaimed.

"Bertie was the yellow crayon. We got loads of compliments at the party we went to tonight," Edith said merrily. "I'll send you the photos."

"Yes, do," Matthew replied.

"Now, are the two of you supposed to be something, or did we interrupt you in the middle of a private moment?" Edith asked, looking pointedly at Mary and Matthew.

Tom and Sybil laughed.

"Haha," Mary deadpanned, motioning to her crown and green bodysuit. "Can't you tell? Matthew is Aquaman, and I'm Mera."

"He'll do anything to take his bloody shirt off," Tom told Sybil.

"Hey, now I had to sit for a full hour while Mary painted these scales on, you know," Matthew said, flexing his arms. "I even have a trident, too!"

"We don't need to see it," Tom shot back. "No fair the two of you using the props department at the studio to help you out."

"We played by the rules, thank you," Mary said. "We found all of this at a delightful costume store by Matthew's place and it was all within the budget."

"All right, let's get this over with. It's unfairly late back in England," Tom said.

"All right, I'll just tell Mum to log in," Edith said, picking up her phone.

A moment later, a fourth video box opened and they all smiled and cheered as Cora, Isobel and Violet appeared on the screen.

"Hello, Mummy!" Mary said cheerfully.

"Granny! There you are! You look wonderful!" Sybil exclaimed.

"Hello, hello! My, you all have put so much effort into your costumes this year," Cora noted, smiling at all of them.

"Except for Tom, but we won't mention that," Matthew said.

"Hey, easy there, mate. We're supposed to stick together," Tom complained.

"What do you think?" Isobel asked Violet. "Which one do you like best?"

The Dowager Countess arched her eyebrow as she looked intently at the screen. The Crawley sisters were all elated that her skin showed some colour and her eyes appeared sharp.

"Well, it appears that Mary is wearing a crown, which leads me to wonder whether she is wearing a costume at all," Violet noted.

Mary smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Sybil is adorable, as always. I especially like the black ears, as we all know that black cats are the very best of cats," Violet continued.

Sybil nodded and grinned in appreciation.

"However, it would seem to me that this year's prize must go to Edith. Anyone willing to wear a wig of such a shocking colour has far more ambition and commitment to this competition than I could muster," Violet stated.

They all laughed and applauded, then bantered on, all of them talking over each other eagerly.

Isobel sat back and smiled, watching as Violet nodded and gave out crisp answers and barbs, just like she always used to.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, October 31, 2016**

Alex came out of the shower and dried his hair, throwing the used towel into the hamper. He went over to the sink and grabbed some moisturizer, spreading it over his face and arms. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he ran his hand over the stubble on his chin.

"Hi, babes."

He turned and blinked as Anna came into the bathroom. She was wearing her silk robe, her feet bare.

"Hi," he replied. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Yeah, but I wanted to wake up when you got home," she said, coming over to him. "How was your call?"

"It was good. We should have enough to cover the budget that the studio wants, but we're still haggling on the contingency fund. Should be sorted out in the next week, or so," he replied.

"Good, good," she said.

"How was tonight? Did you get a lot of visitors?" he asked.

"37, all told," she said, shrugging her shoulders. She swallowed as she took in his naked body. "One kid was dressed as a recycling truck. He had flashing lights and spinning wheels and everything. It was quite impressive."

"Kids are clever, or at least their parents can be," he said, smiling.

She nodded in agreement.

"Alex, we need to talk," she said quietly.

"Okay," he said, turning to look at her.

"I want to apologize for that whole abstinence nonsense. It was probably the worst idea I've ever had," she said, smiling sheepishly.

"Love," he said, frowning.

"No, just hear me out," she said, raising her hand to stop him. "It isn't that I think we can't go without sex, because I know we can if we have to, even though neither of us want to. It's that I brought up the idea for the wrong reasons, and I think that's been partly why we've had so many…issues…lately."

He nodded.

"I've been getting so much advice from so many different people ever since we started trying. Sometimes it seems that whatever worked for one couple is completely opposite to what worked for another, and it's all just a mess in my head. I thought that I wouldn't need to worry about any of it because I expected I'd be pregnant straight away, but when that didn't happen, I started thinking about everything and abstaining, or taking a break, was suggested to me. I was willing to try anything, really," she said.

"Sure, that makes sense," he said encouragingly.

"Well, I don't know if it makes sense, but that's what I was thinking," she admitted. "But the real problem, more than anything, is that I'm just at a loss to explain why I'm not pregnant yet, and I just feel so…so…useless."

"Hey, hey! Anna," he said, taking her in his arms and kissing the top of her head. "Love, you are not useless. Come on, don't say that."

She sniffled against his chest, clinging to him and breathing in his scent. She had missed being in his arms like this. Finally lifting her head, she looked up at him with worry.

"I just don't want to let you down. I don't want you to wonder why you married me. I don't want you to regret committing to me if I'm barren and can't give you children," she whispered.

His eyes widened in alarm. "Anna, I love you. You're my life, do you understand? I would never, ever, ever think less of you if we can't have a family. It may not even be because of you! It could be because of me!"

"I highly doubt it," she scoffed. "You're in such good shape, and it's not like there's any problems with your volume. God, there's always so much of it."

He laughed and kissed her forehead, hugging her close. "All right, now you're just talking crazy. It's not like I'm perfect."

"I never said you were perfect," she grumbled, frowning up at him. "I just don't think you're the problem."

"You are not a problem, love," he said firmly. "I'm sorry that I didn't know how to act around you lately, that I didn't know what to do to make you feel comfortable. What do I have to do to prove to you that you're stuck with me for the rest of your life?"

She smiled at him. "You've already told me that so many times, but I guess I just need to keep hearing it."

"Well, that's fine with me. You are going to be hearing it daily, because that is what you deserve. I don't want you to feel like every time we make love you could do something to affect whether we conceive or not. It will happen when it happens, okay? There's nothing wrong with maintaining your diet, and taking your vitamins, and all of that. I'm still taking mine, too. But all this talk about schedules, and taking time off, and all of that, love, we're going to do this our way. What worked for someone else is all well and good, but that doesn't mean it's for us, okay? From now on, it's you and me, and we just do what feels right, deal?" he asked hopefully.

"Deal," she agreed, kissing him warmly.

He groaned against her mouth as her hand reached down and took hold of his bare length.

"I've missed you so much," she hissed, stroking him as he kissed her back. "No more abstaining, ever."

"Whatever you say," he replied eagerly, reaching for the tie of her robe.

"Hang on, babes, hang on," she said, laughing at his perturbed expression as she stepped back from him. "It's Halloween, after all, and I've got something special for you."

He watched in anticipation as she went over to the closet and took out two outfits, turning around and holding them up for him to see.

"I want to make up for putting you off for so long. So, who do you want me to be for you? You can choose between the slutty nurse or the slutty witch," she said, arching her eyebrows at him playfully as she waved the costumes in front of him.

He walked over to her and took both costumes from her shaking hands. Smiling at her confidently, he tossed both of them on to the floor and took her face in his hands.

"I want my wife," he said, leaning towards her and touching his forehead to hers. "You've always been enough for me, love. Always."

She grinned and kissed him, dropping her arms to allow him to undo her robe and take it off of her. His tongue played with hers as he scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom. He set her down on the bed and she quickly took off her bra and panties. He crawled over to her and pushed her down, spreading her legs and kissing his way down her leg. Their eyes met just before he put his tongue inside of her.

"Oh God!" she groaned, then whimpered, and sighed, her hands moving down into his hair. She kept her eyes open, watching him move on her, all the tension and fear of the past few weeks swept away in the waves of pleasure that he was building up inside of her. As her arousal spiralled higher and higher, she began bucking against his mouth, shamelessly presenting herself to him. His hand slipped around her thigh, his fingers moving over towards her centre. He looked up and found her wide eyes just before he swiped her with his tongue and pressed down with his fingers.

"Yes, yes!" she wailed as he sent her flying, his hands pushing her legs back to give him full access. He finally eased up and released her legs, soothing her with soft kisses as she took deep gulps of air to calm herself.

"Did you like that?" he asked, smiling against her skin as he kissed her breasts, his hands linking with hers and spreading her arms out to her sides.

She hummed in reply, writhing beneath him as he worked on her again, slowly and leisurely. She expected him to be rough and desperate, and wanted him to be, but he's taken his time with her, which has made his every touch and move all the more powerful.

"Fuck me. Fuck me, please," she called, kissing him heatedly as he brought his mouth up to hers. She moaned at the taste of herself on his tongue and lifted her legs as he moved into position. He brought her hands above her head, holding them there as he raised up and held himself poised above her.

Ever so slowly he pushed into her, the feel of him sending a harsh breath flying up from her chest. She locked her legs around him, holding him tight as he began to thrust, every push and pull strong and deliberate, gradually building his pace, always so deep, yet just slow enough to keep her craving more.

"Oh God," she wailed, her eyes shut tight as she arched against him, his hold on her hands keeping her in place. His hips sped up and finally gave her the friction she needed, and she spat out a string of curses as he hilted himself inside of her again and again. Her mind spun, somewhere amidst the delirium she focused just long enough to wonder how insane could she have been to want to deny herself this before he sent her flying over the edge a second time.

"I love you, Anna. I love you so much," he said tightly, kissing her as his strokes grew more erratic. She tightened around him, moving her hips as fast as she could, trying to make every plunge feel as amazing for him as it was for her.

"Give it to me, Alex. Oh God, give it to me. Give it to me, please," she pleaded, reaching for him with her lips and tongue. She found his neck and closed her mouth on him, tasting his warm skin and revelling in the feel of him.

With that last touch of his wife's mouth on him, he tensed up, burying himself inside of her as far as he could reach. He closed his eyes and nuzzled her blonde hair, grunting loudly as he let go, feeling her shake with every burst.

They stayed like that for several moments, his weight resting mainly on his elbows and knees. She slipped her hands from his grasp and hugged him, kissing him lightly, her legs still clamped around him.

"Go again?" he asked, chuckling into her hair.

"Bloody right we are," she answered, finally unlocking her legs and letting him withdraw and turn over. She kissed him warmly, then gave him a playful smile before moving down his body.

 **Asiate Restaurant, Mandarin Oriental Hotel, Midtown Manhattan, New York, USA, November 19, 2016**

Mary sipped her tea and smiled politely as she listened to the executives around the table trade pleasantries with Aunt Rosamund. Her feet and legs ached, despite it being only lunch time, but then she'd been running around all week, really. She and Anna had landed in New York on Monday and gone straight into interviews and appearances all through the week leading up to the season premiere tomorrow in their usual Sunday evening timeslot. From the _Today_ show to _Seth Meyers_ , private receptions for network executives and sponsors, and fan meet-and-greets, she'd been all over New York with barely any time to get off her feet, let alone sleep. Anna kept her on time for the most part, but she couldn't keep her completely protected from Henry, who met up with them on the first day and had been by her side constantly since then. As usual, he placed a well-timed kiss to her cheek or hand on her bottom whenever the cameras were on them, and their photos were splashed across social media and the entertainment websites all week. The network loved the exposure, and early reviews from the press over the season premiere were outstanding already. For her part, Mary kept smiling and wading her way through it, trying to comfort herself with the divine outfits she'd chosen for the week. She would change three or four times a day to have a different look for each event, but even all the lovely fashions she got to enjoy didn't comfort her entirely.

Indeed, nothing really comforted her until she got back to the hotel, changed into her pyjamas and, safely nestled in bed, had her nightly video chat with Matthew. He was in Los Angeles for auditions and meetings all week. He had tried to reschedule everything so he could accompany her to New York but she forbid it. Some producers and casting directors would have found it sweet that he wanted to follow her during this hectic week, but since he couldn't divulge that fact, it would only look like he was blowing off his obligations, and that she wouldn't allow. She refused to have any negative impact on his career, but from the moment they parted at the airport, she missed him terribly.

"We expect a very large audience for the viewing party tomorrow," an executive gushed. "We're really ramping up fan interaction this year. We'll have an official liveblog, photos and videos going up on Instagram during the episode and a Twitter chat. The show should be trending all night."

"Wonderful," Mary said, nodding in acknowledgment. In the past, she could sort of sit back and stay in the background once the show started, most of the promotion done ahead of time so that she could move on to other things once the episodes actually aired. This year was different. The network was intent on parading her and Henry out as much as possible.

Thinking of the man himself, she glanced around wondering where he was. She fully expected him to be at the luncheon but he hadn't made an appearance, and there was no empty seat waiting for him, either. Well, no matter. She was glad to have a reprieve from him. Though he hadn't done anything particularly egregious during the week, she was finding it harder and harder to tolerate his usual antics. She found herself apologizing to Matthew more and more for all the gossip and photos going up about her and Henry. Matthew told her repeatedly that it was all right, and claimed he didn't even see the majority of it. That made her feel a bit better, but then the next day would come and a fresh wave of 'showmance' lovey-doveyness would ensue, and she would feel terrible all over again.

"Now, Mary, we wanted to talk to you about Season 5, if we could," a producer announced, drawing her attention. "We're finalizing the script now, and so far, we think it'll be quite spectacular."

"To add an actor of Tony Foyle's pedigree is quite the coup. We think he'll appeal to our current fanbase, and also bring in some of his own," another executive chimed in.

"Tony is an old family friend," Rosamund noted. "Mary knows him well."

"Ah, that's perfect then," an executive proclaimed.

"Small world, isn't it?" Mary replied. It was common knowledge that she and Tony had history, but of course there were always studio executives who weren't in the loop and only popped up when the show was receiving buzz.

"Now, you may have heard that we could lose Henry after this coming season," the producer said gravely.

"We heard the talk, yes," Rosamund answered. "Is it final, yet?"

"Nothing is quite final. His people haven't said either way, but they have floated the idea, which puts us in a bit of a dilemma," the producer replied.

"What do you think, Mary?" the executive asked, watching her closely. "Would you be up for returning without him?"

"I usually make decisions based on the script first," she said easily. "The cast usually falls somewhere between fourth and fifth. I adore everyone on the production, but what's important to me is having a character and story that I can really work with."

"Completely understandable, which is why we're working on two different scenarios for the end of Season 5, depending on whether Henry decides to return, or not," the producer noted. "The network believes we can continue without him, but obviously they would feel far more confident if they knew you were onside."

"Mary is always open to considering all opportunities," Rosamund interjected. " _Paladin_ is her home, but five years on one show is a very long time in television. As loyal as she has been, she'll want to look at all that's being offered before she makes a decision to return."

"Of course," an executive said easily. "There would be no question that Season 6 would be all about Jade, so Mary would get top billing."

"As she should, yes," Rosamund replied, smiling pleasantly.

Mary nodded along, her mind again weighing the difficult question of whether to stay or go, and how Henry's decision would impact hers. She and Matthew had spoken at length about a scenario she hadn't even thought of before – leaving even if Henry did come back. It was a bold move, and carried immense risks, but there was no question that she had to turn down movies because she couldn't film during the months she was committed to _Paladin_. If she was free of the show, she could do as she pleased.

"We're still in talks with Henry," the producer said, nodding to Mary in encouragement. "We appreciate that the two of you would consult each other on a decision as big as this. All we ask is that you give us a chance, regardless of whether Henry comes back or not, to pitch you on what we can do for you, that's all."

"Well, as we've said, _Palaldin_ is home," Mary said, smiling sweetly to the assembled executives. "I'm always willing to listen."

 _ **Paladin**_ **Season Premiere Party, The Temple of Dendur, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Fifth Avenue, Manhattan, New York, USA, November 20, 2016**

"Kiss for luck?" Henry asked, smiling at Mary.

She rolled her eyes and rubbed his cheek with her hand instead.

"Now, now, darling, come on and get in the mood. We'll be going out to thunderous applause once the episode is over in a few minutes. You need to look all starry-eyed when you're at my side."

"My performance over the past week alone should get guarantee me next year's Emmy," she said wryly, arching her eyebrow at him.

He laughed and nodded. "Maybe, but don't worry. If you don't win, I'll let you hold one of my three."

"You only have two, Henry," she shot back.

"Not by next year, I won't," he retorted, giving a smirk.

She shook her head and turned away, glancing past the curtains to the large screen mounted in front of the numerous tables full of guests. The evening had been a huge success, and she was glad for it. The black-tie event was sold out, each guest paying thousands to attend and have dinner, listen to the cast and showrunners, and now watch the premiere episode. Anna told her that the response so far was very good, with the show trending on social media. Henry's arm around her waist notwithstanding, Mary was enjoying the official debut of Season 4.

"Oh look who's here," Henry said in a dismissive voice. "Mr. Dull-as-paint and Lady Bore-me-to-tears."

Mary turned and saw Tony and Mabel approaching them. She had seen them briefly when she and Henry first arrived. The network had wanted to introduce Tony at the official premiere to start some buzz over his joining the show for Season 5. Of course, he had brought Mabel along with him. She was once again dressed as if she was trying quite hard. Her black dress was form fitting, but had a rather ugly belt buckle in the front, and she had a tad too much makeup.

"He is our co-star next season, you know," Mary said, automatically putting on a smile as they neared. "You ought to be nice to him."

"Why? I might only have to work with him for one year, not even," Henry teased, pulling her a bit closer.

She suppressed her urge to roll her eyes. The arrogant bastard still wasn't showing his hand.

"Mary, Henry," Tony said politely smiling and nodding to them.

"Tony, Mabel, hello," Mary said pleasantly. Tony smiled at her widely, as usual, though Mabel seemed to just give her the smallest of smiles in reply.

"The two of you must be pleased. I've seen your photos all week, and now the premiere has been received quite well from what I hear," Mabel noted.

"We always love coming to New York, don't we, darling?" Henry said smoothly, giving Mary a smile before turning back to Mabel. "The city agrees with us."

"Yes, yes it does," Mary said, her stomach churning. She couldn't imagine three people she wanted to be around any less.

"Henry! Mary! Tony! We're bringing you out in five!" an assistant called.

"Time to take our bows," Henry said. "Just stay close and do what we do, Tony."

Henry turned Mary towards the stage and escorted her over to wait for their cue. Applause filled the large room as the episode finished and the credits began to roll.

"Don't let him get to you," Tony said softly, leaning over and kissing Mabel on the top of her head. "We'll be rid of him soon enough, if rumours are to be believed. Next season will be his last."

She smiled and nodded as he released her hand and went to go stand behind Henry and Mary. She watched them intently, pursing her lips as the applause continued and the guests stood to welcome Henry, Mary and Tony to the stage.

"Soon enough, my dear," Mabel whispered to herself. "And not just him."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** For those of us who have been a part of this fandom for a while, we've had to say goodbye to a lot of brilliant writers as time has gone on. This is sad, but inevitable, and rather than beg them to stay, or complain about their loss, I think it's important to remember the wonderful stories and memories that they shared with us during the time that they were around. A special shoutout now to my dear friend, _didyouhaveagoodtime_ , also formerly known as _patsan_ , who will be removing her stories from this site by the end of October. Please go and read her work immediately while you still can and send her a review and your warm thoughts and appreciation for all that she did. Not only is she a wonderful writer and a wonderful person, but she was the driving force for years behind our special Mary and Matthew appreciation events, Secret Santa exchanges, and celebration days, and always brought us together with her positive attitude and supportive words. Many of my stories, including the entire _Let's Be Strong_ and _Breaking Bread_ series, would not exist if not for her. I will always be grateful that I started reading and publishing at a time when she, and so many others, were active. They made reading and writing for this pairing an absolute privilege. So, please go and show her some love and wish her well, and continue to treasure and appreciate the great writers that remain while they're still here.


	17. Chapter 17

**Previously:**

 _ **Paladin**_ **Season Premiere Party, The Temple of Dendur, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Fifth Avenue, Manhattan, New York, USA, November 20, 2016**

"We always love coming to New York, don't we, darling?" Henry said smoothly, giving Mary a smile before turning back to Mabel. "The city agrees with us."

"Yes, yes it does," Mary said, her stomach churning. She couldn't imagine three people she wanted to be around any less.

"Henry! Mary! Tony! We're bringing you out in five!" an assistant called.

"Time to take our bows," Henry said. "Just stay close and do what we do, Tony."

Henry turned Mary towards the stage and escorted her over to wait for their cue. Applause filled the large room as the episode finished and the credits began to roll.

"Don't let him get to you," Tony said softly, leaning over and kissing Mabel on the top of her head. "We'll be rid of him soon enough, if rumours are to be believed. Next season will be his last."

She smiled and nodded as he released her hand and went to go stand behind Henry and Mary. She watched them intently, pursing her lips as the applause continued and the guests stood to welcome Henry, Mary and Tony to the stage.

"Soon enough, my dear," Mabel whispered to herself. "And not just him."

 **Chapter 17:**

 **UP Express Train, Toronto, Canada, November 2017**

Matthew looked out the window at the dark night sky. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, but still not as much as one would expect in Canada. The temperature had dipped in recent weeks, though he had learned in the years he lived here that it never reached the frigid depths that many assumed. Each winter here was usually months of slush and barely freezing temperatures and the odd week of ice and severe wind chill. It was a stark contrast from sunny California, but he was glad to be back. Los Angeles had been a week of meetings, auditions, photoshoots, lunches and dinners. He had to be "on" constantly, doing his best to make a good impression, appear funny and likeable, and most of all, memorable. He got over his nerves early on, the busy schedule not allowing him time to feel intimidated or awed by any of the industry heavyweights he encountered. Now, finally back in Toronto, he could slow down and decompress. He was cautiously optimistic about the next steps in his career, but he was ready to just wait and see now, having done all he could to impress those he needed to.

It still shocked him how quickly things had turned. Normally, he would have to wait weeks, even months, before he got an audition. All he could ever do was ask Joe to put his name in and see if he got a call. There were many times where he was never formally told that he didn't get an audition, or wasn't called back. Days would go by with no answer, and he would just assume no one was interested in him.

Now he was flying back from Los Angeles with two jobs booked. He auditioned, got called back, was offered, negotiated, and accepted in the span of a few days. He thought he was a better actor than before _Shattered_ , but the film hadn't been released yet, so it wasn't as if the business-at-large knew that. He was more known now because of the Armani campaign and word-of-mouth. Modelling had nothing to do with his acting skills, though, which only amused and perturbed him all the more. One could argue that he was getting work now because someone thought he looked good in a suit and word from Thea and the producers on _Shattered_ had said he wasn't completely useless, rather than for his actual ability. Such fickleness would have infuriated him before, but Mary had reminded him constantly all week that while he might be given his opportunities due to the random whims of casting directors and studio executives, his talent would be what kept him in people's minds. Once it was time to get down to work, there was nowhere to hide, and he would rise or fall on his own merit.

The train wound its way closer to downtown. He smiled at the thought of her. Being apart from her all week was torture. He hated that she'd spent the week with Henry, smiling and laughing and feeding the rumour mill. Still, he had to admit that she was right. It was important for him to be in Los Angeles, and his trip had been both productive and lucrative. It also helped that, true to her word, they'd spoken every night, much to his surprise. He expected to get a few texts saying that she was out at some event and would talk to him the next day or something, but that never happened. Even with the time difference, she called him from her hotel, and they talked about work, the latest news, funny stories and gossip that they'd heard, and even flirted and teased each other. It made him think back to when she left England to pursue her career. If he had just been more patient, more understanding, more supportive, they could have done the long distance thing and made it work. He didn't have much time for wallowing, though. Not only was he busy the entire time he was in California, but Mary would end each video call with a rather sexy exchange, and when he finally signed off, he was far too aroused to wallow.

The train slid smoothly into the station and came to a stop, the cheerful tone and opening of the doors signalling their arrival. He collected his luggage, careful to ease his wheeled travel bag on to the platform before he walked briskly for the exit. Mary's building was a few short blocks away, and though he was worn out from his trip, he couldn't wait to get there.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, November 2017**

Anna pursed her lips, keeping her eyes closed. She felt a flutter in her chest, a slight seizing in her stomach. Laughter was threatening to bubble out of her. She tried to resist as long as she could, but ultimately she couldn't contain it fully and ended up snorting a bit before a giggle escaped through her clenched teeth.

"Love, come on," Alex grumbled, frowning down at her as he rubbed her back.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she said, laughing freely now. "It just tickles, is all!"

He shook his head in annoyance and turned to fetch more almond oil. He rubbed it over his hands, then returned to his wife's naked body lying on the massage table before him. Frowning in concentration, he returned to her back and pressed harder, stroking from her spine up to her shoulder blades.

"Mmm," she hummed, smiling in pleasure. "Babes, that feels so good. God, this is exactly what I need."

He smiled confidently as he moved his hands down and massaged her bottom. Pressing his fingers on her warm skin, he rubbed in circles, expanding outward. Moving back up to her lower back, he focused on hitting her pressure points and relaxing her muscles, rather than the glistening shine of her oiled body lying bare before him. With delightful anticipation, he moved both of his hands back to her bottom and began kneading her smooth flesh.

She burst out laughing.

"Anna," he scolded her, stilling his hands.

"I know, I know," she apologized, giggling again. "It feels really good, honestly. I just couldn't help thinking that you were squeezing my bum and I started laughing. Sorry."

"It's supposed to feel good, but not 'haha' good," he said wryly, moving down to massage her thigh. "Just relax. You're not supposed to be thinking at all if I'm doing this right."

"All right, all right," she said, sighing as he moved down to her calf.

After the quick flight back from New York with Mary, she had dragged herself home to find her husband waiting patiently with a light dinner and the upstairs lounge prepared. This room was usually where Anna did her yoga, when she actually had time. It was decorated in soothing, subdued colours, the floor covered in a dark Cherrywood. The space was filled with cushions, flowers, and scented candles. Alex had gone to the trouble of lighting all of them, casting a nice, soft glow over the room. They had also put a massage table in ages ago, but they rarely used it. Alex had developed some skill over the years, though she still found it a bit strange to feel his hands oiling her up and rubbing her down like this, hence the occasional laugh when his fingers sent delightful sensations through her body.

"No thinking about work, no feeling tired, no planning out your schedule for the week in your head," he said, his voice warm and mellow. "You're home. You're safe. Let me take care of you, love."

She had to admit that he was quite good, all laughing aside. Her neck and back felt loads better, and his ministrations were having a very pleasant effect on other parts of her body. When she first stepped in the door, she thought she might collapse on to the couch, feeling so worn out from the hectic schedule in New York and all the running around she did with Mary. Now, thanks to his talented hands, she was calm and relaxed, and even a bit giddy.

"Turn over," he said, giving her a light spank.

"Are you sure this is how it's supposed to work?" she asked lazily, turning over and smiling up at him. "Shouldn't I be wearing a towel?"

"This is a sensual massage," he said, smirking at her as he began rubbing her shoulders. "I need to have full access."

"Sensual massage, hmm?" she said, closing her eyes and smiling as he worked her over. "Well, now that makes sense. Javier makes me get naked when he massages me, too."

"Funny, real funny," he scoffed.

She laughed playfully, keeping her eyes closed.

He worked his way down her front, caressing her breasts, paying attention to her arms, her hips and finally flexing his fingers as he moved up and down each of her thighs.

"Oh God, babes," she moaned, her eyes half-open. "That's so good."

"You like that?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"You know I do," she answered. She looked down from his face, across his firm chest and flat stomach to his pyjama pants.

"If this is supposed to be a sensual massage, shouldn't you be naked as well?" she asked, looking back up at his eyes and smirking at him.

He grinned back at her. "Would that make you feel more comfortable? Help you relax?"

She nodded her head, a slight moan leaving her lips as he moved his fingers ever closer to her centre but still not nearly close enough.

"Well, if that's what you want," he said, stepping back for a moment. She watched avidly and smiled wide as he removed his pyjama pants and shorts. His obvious arousal sent a flare of desire straight to her core.

"How does this feel?" he asked, moving his hand back up to fondle her breast. "More?"

She moaned and nodded eagerly in reply.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, November 2016**

Mary smiled as she floated about the kitchen, moving from the stove to the oven, to the island. She gave the soup a final stir, then took the steaks out of the oven and put them on a cutting board to rest. Everything was coming along to her satisfaction. Matthew had texted her from the train station and was on his way up. With any luck, the food would be perfectly cooked the moment he stepped through the door.

She stopped and took out her phone to take a photo of the different pots on the stove. Cooking was probably the last thing that her fans would think her capable of. Certainly it would surprise Edith and Sybil to hear that she'd prepared dinner as well, but that made it all the sweeter to show what she'd done. For the past few weeks, her social media accounts had been full of photos from her various interviews and appearances, staged candid shots with Henry, and pictures of her running in Central Park. She didn't care that everyone online would speculate as to who she was cooking for once they saw the photo. The dinner had come off brilliantly so far, and she felt quite proud of herself.

 _'Proper Monday dinner – steak with potatoes and asparagus, potato and leek soup to start. Yumm!'_

She smiled at the caption, then posted the photo before going back to checking on the food. Matthew was probably expecting take away sushi tonight. Well, he was in for a surprise, several in fact.

This was the first time they'd been apart for any real duration since they started dating again. She had been ridiculously busy in New York, but not having him at her side had felt strange. She found herself thinking of him during the day – noting little things that she knew he would find funny or interesting, browsing through stores and randomly thinking that something she saw would look good on him, passing by little cafés and restaurants and knowing he would enjoy them – it came so naturally and yet startled her a bit. It wasn't as if they were casually seeing each other. They spent nearly every hour together in Toronto, so of course she would think of him often when they were apart. She also wasn't afraid of what his presence in her mind meant. She loved him. She knew that. Back when they were together in England, it felt similar, this natural connection, the easy manner in which she thought of him as hers. For the past little while, they had spoken about not obsessing over their careers as much and taking a fresh approach – evaluating their opportunities based on whether they would enjoy them, rather than strictly as a career advancement vehicle. She decided to adopt that same mentality to her personal life as well. There was nothing weak or wrong about thinking of Matthew. She enjoyed it, just as she enjoyed their nightly calls when he was in Los Angeles. After a week apart though, she was looking forward to his return.

The front door opened and she smiled, turning towards the foyer in expectation.

"Hi," Matthew said tiredly, coming into the kitchen. He placed a bottle of wine on the island, then pulled her into a hug and breathed in her scent, nuzzling against her hair. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," she said, pulling back and giving him a warm smile. "How was the flight?"

"Long. Boring. Tiring," he replied, going over and looking curiously at the steaks on the counter. "Well doesn't this look delicious? How did you have time to do all this?"

"I didn't know how hungry you would be after having airplane food, but I knew I'd be famished," she explained. "Thankfully I was able to order the groceries delivered in advance, so it was just a matter of prepping and cooking it all once I got back."

He washed his hands and watched with an amused smile on his face as she went over and plated the steaks with the mini potatoes and asparagus, his portion nearly twice as much as hers. Taking the plates from her, he brought them out to the dining table and she followed with the soup.

"What about you? How was your flight?" he asked, lighting the candles on the table and sitting down.

"I think it did poor Anna in," she said sympathetically. "The trip was far busier than I expected. The premiere ended up being the smallest part of it, in the end."

"Ah," he said in understanding, picking up the wine bottle and unwrapping the seal around the cork. "And did you reach any decisions?"

"I did," she said, sitting down and passing him the corkscrew. "I'm going to do the Burberry holiday campaign. They agreed to send a photographer here so that I don't have to go back to London early. It coincides well with the _Fashion_ magazine shoot, actually. I also spoke with the director of that short film I told you about and she was quite enthusiastic. We should wrap in early December, which gives me plenty of time to get back to Downton before Christmas."

"That's wonderful, darling. Congratulations," he said genuinely.

"Thank you, and thank you for the sage advice. You were right. Focusing on what I thought was fun and enjoyable was more important than trying to find a career advancing role in such a short time. I'll still get plenty of exposure, and won't have the stress of having to carry a project. It'll get my face out there, keep me in people's minds, and should be quite fun. Now what did you bring back?"

"This is a Cab Sauv from Napa Valley – Chateau Montelena Estate 2001," he explained, pouring her a small amount to taste. "Apparently it's one of the best wines from California. I was able to pick up a bottle through the hotel."

She swirled the wine in the glass for several seconds before giving it a sniff, then a brief taste. Smiling, she put her glass down and nodded. "That's very nice."

"I thought so," he said, pouring each of them a glass. "I brought a few other things back for you, but you'll have to wait until after dinner to see them."

She arched her eyebrow and looked at him curiously. "Now you have me intrigued."

"That's the point, darling. I know how to keep you interested," he replied confidently, smiling at her before savouring the soup.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, November 2016**

Anna smiled at her husband as she crawled under the duvet and snuggled against him. He sighed in response and brought his arm around her, turning and kissing the top of her head.

She ran her fingers over his chest and down to his stomach, pressing her naked body against his. This was always one of her favourite times of the night – the two of them alone, cuddling together, relaxed and sated. She would often grin and blush when recalling their lovemaking, and tonight was no exception. For the most part, they appeared to be a rather boring couple to the outside world – two hard-working, normal people with nothing particularly exceptional about them. Their wealth was one thing, but they didn't flaunt it, which almost made them even more boring. How shocked would their family and friends be if they knew exactly what they got up to in private?

She closed her eyes and kissed Alex's chest. Once she stopped laughing and just enjoyed his massage, he had gotten her quite worked up. His hands felt wonderful on her body, and when he put his fingers inside of her, she reached out and took hold of him, wanting to pleasure him in turn. Shy and quiet little Anna Smith had ended up riding her husband on the massage table until they both fell apart, her voice loud and uninhibited, telling him exactly how he made her feel. It was a bit of a thrill to act so wanton with him, their own little secret, a side of themselves that they only shared with each other.

"Did you speak to Mum today?" she asked casually.

"Do we really need to talk about your mother at this exact moment?" he shot back, opening his eyes and frowning at her.

She laughed and gave him a quick kiss. "I'm sorry, but I just want to sort out everything for the holidays so we don't have to deal with it again."

He gave her a wry look, then nodded. "I spoke to her this afternoon. She's not thrilled that we're only coming back for less than a week, but I didn't get into it with her. She wants to do dinner on Christmas Eve."

"I thought she might," she said. "Well, it'll be fine. Even if we stayed for a month, she wouldn't be happy."

"No, but it's sweet of her to cook for us," he noted.

"It's sweet of you to eat so much of her cooking. I don't know how you do it," she said, smiling at him.

"Hey, I need to keep my strength up, especially this year," he said mischievously. "My wife is on me non-stop."

"Shut your face," she said slapping his chest.

She settled back against him, running her hand along his stomach back and forth. With Mary and Matthew scheduled to head back to Yorkshire in early December, Anna could have gone back to London earlier as well, but she decided against it. Visiting with Mum was a strain on her patience even at the best of times, and this year would surely be taxing with the constant baby advice she would be inundated with. Alex recommended that they only go back for a few days around Christmas, that they stay at a hotel, and that they use the rest of their time off in December just for themselves. She had readily agreed. She thought it was a shame that her in-laws wouldn't be flying back for the holidays, but she was looking forward to spending most of December alone with her husband.

"Do you think she'll like her present?" she asked lightly.

"She'll love it, I'm sure," he said, stroking her back. "When she sees it, she'll go crazy."

"I hope so," she said, kissing his chest. "The visit goes so much better if she's in a good mood."

"If you're hoping that the gift will make her meddle less, then you're dreaming," he said, chuckling lightly. "Don't worry about what she says. She's just being…her."

"I know," she agreed, resting her head on his chest as she turned and looked up at him. "God, I hope I don't end up like her when I'm a mum."

"You won't," he said firmly. "I'm sure you'll have your moments too, but you're going to be an amazing mother, love."

She grinned and leaned up to kiss him lightly. Fatigue was beginning to overtake her again, and her legs felt like jelly after all that they'd done. Still, she wasn't quite ready for bed yet.

"Babes," she drawled, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course," he said easily.

"Do you promise not to think any less of me?" she asked.

"I promise," he said immediately. "I love you, no matter what. Now, what is it?"

Her cheeks flushed a bit as she smiled at him. "Well, the thing is, I know we agreed to not really talk so much about getting pregnant, not put too much pressure on ourselves."

"Yeah, we did," he confirmed. "Why?"

"It's just that, well," she stammered. "When you, erm, when you, you know, do it inside of me, it feels really good."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Uh, really?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding her head, a full-on blush coming over her face now. "I don't know, but it feels so good. Maybe it's my hormones, or just thinking about what could happen, but it's just so…hot."

"Fuck," he said incredulously, grinning at her.

"You don't think I'm weird, do you?" she asked quietly.

"What? No! No, no, definitely not!" he babbled. "I'm, uh, glad you…enjoy…it."

"Do you? Umm, do you enjoy it?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

"God, love, I sometimes think I enjoy it too much!" he said, smiling at her.

She laughed and kissed him again. Her hand wandered down to take hold of him and he groaned in response.

"Think you can go again?" she asked, swiping her tongue playfully into his mouth.

"For sure," he growled.

She laughed as he turned her over on to her back and pounced.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, November 2016**

Mary stared at the coffee table in disbelief. She hadn't stopped smiling since Matthew brought her special gifts out from his luggage and presented them to her.

"You don't have to look so shocked," he said, chuckling at her dazed expression. "Is it so unbelievable that I brought you something back from Los Angeles?"

"All I was expecting from you was some scandalous lingerie, if I'm honest," she said, smirking at him.

"Who says I didn't buy you some to that, too?" he countered, smiling smugly.

She laughed, then picked up the Armani Privé dress again and stood up, walking over to the mirror and admiring it once more.

"It's almost like it was made for me," she said in wonder. "How did you even know my size?"

"All right, easy there," he said, frowning at her wryly. "I do know something about women's fashion. It wasn't hard to figure out."

She turned and arched her eyebrow at him, still holding the dress against her body.

He rolled his eyes. "All right, fine. I texted Anna."

She laughed and came back over to the sofa, setting the dress down. "Well, it does takes an intelligent man to admit when he needs help."

He gave her a bit of a pout as she relaxed against him and looked over her presents once more. In addition to the gorgeous dress, he had brought back a lovely Bulgari gold necklace and a pair of cream-coloured Christian Louboutin shoes. She assumed that he was able to get the dress at a discount through Armani, probably as a bit of a perk from working on their marketing campaign. She didn't know if she wanted to find out how much he had paid for everything else. Though he had made good money from _Shattered_ , there was still a significant gulf between them financially, and that was before factoring in her family money and title. While she loved what he got for her, a part of her felt a bit apprehensive. Did he think he had to do this to keep her happy?

"You really shouldn't have," she said, turning to look at him. "I could have just bought all this myself, and besides, it's not as if I really need any of it."

"I know I didn't have to," he said easily. "I wanted to. Besides, it helped me learn that there are certain benefits to knowing the right people."

She arched her eyebrow at him. "Such as?"

He smiled and leaned forward, pointing to her presents. "Well, at the risk of having you be less impressed with my gifts, I didn't have to pay very much for them at all. The dress came from Armani as a bit of a thank-you for being in their campaign. The necklace and the shoes are 'gently used', actually. You wore them at the BAFTAs in February. I got a hold of your stylist and she agreed to help me out, discretely, of course. She never ended up returning the pieces because she was hoping to use them for someone else, but never ended up doing it. I was able to get them for a rather good price. No one's touched them except for you."

She blinked in surprise, then laughed, kissing him quickly before smiling at him. "I am very impressed. No wonder I think all of it is so gorgeous."

"Well, don't get too used to it. I managed it this time, but I can't promise I'll always be able to get you haut couture anytime you want," he said.

"I'm afraid that I have gotten used to it," she replied, kissing him again. "I've gotten used to you being so thoughtful, and caring, and remembering these little details that I always forget. I don't need expensive gifts, no, but I expect I'll always be impressed by you, because that's just who you are."

"Wow, now there's something I never expected to hear – Lady Mary Crawley being impressed with a man," he joked.

"It would take some man to do it," she said, kissing him again. "He must be the kind of man who not only says he loves me, but actually backs it up with action. Someone who isn't all bluster and big words. It's very rare to find a man like that, and I am very, very impressed."

He grinned and pulled her closer. "You're going to make me very full of myself, you know."

"Just this once, I'll allow it," she said, kissing him lightly. "Now, I have one more present for you."

He blinked and looked at her gleefully. "Oh, darling, you didn't have to. That book you got me was brilliant already."

She smiled and looked down at his lap. She had ducked into an old book store in SoHo when she was running around New York and found a wonderfully preserved leather-bound early edition of _The Three Musketeers_. Seeing Matthew's eyes light up when she gave it to him tonight had made her feel warm and happy inside. She didn't even know what had caused her to pick it up for him. They had only been apart for a week, it hardly merited giving each other presents. Yet, she was glad she had.

"I know I don't have to. I want to," she said, grinning as his face lit up. "I want you to know just how much you mean to me, even if I don't say it very often."

"I do know," he said kindly. "I know you're not one for gushing words and cheesy gestures. You already do more than enough just by being here with me."

"Well, all the same, I think you're going to enjoy this. In fact, I think we both will," she said mysteriously.

He raised his eyebrow at her in confusion, then watched as she reached for her purse on the floor and briefly searched through it. Turning back to him, he noticed her cheeks were tinged pink before she reached out for his hand. He lowered his gaze when she placed a small vial inside it. After seeing what it was, his eyes almost popped out of his head.

"Mary!" he exclaimed, looking back up at her. "Uh…are you sure?"

She smiled sheepishly, her face turning red. "Yes, I'm quite sure. I want to…try it, that is, if you want to."

"Uh…yes, yes I would, very much so, if you want to," he stammered.

His adorable nervousness and enthusiasm put her a little more at ease. "I've been thinking about it quite a bit," she said softly. "I've never done this sort of thing before, but I am rather curious about it."

"I've never tried it before, either," he admitted. "I've often wondered, though, and erm, I've thought about it with you."

She found his eyes, her pulse beating a bit faster. "Really?"

He nodded. "I was always too afraid to mention it. I thought you'd be rather put off."

"Well, to be fair, I don't think I would have reacted very well if you had brought it up," she admitted. "Others have tried to get me to agree to it before, and it always turned me off. But, with you, I just…well, I trust you, more than I've ever trusted anyone, so I'm willing to…give it a go."

He grinned and nodded. "We can always stop if you don't like it."

She nodded, appreciating his kindness, even though she could see his eyes were bright at the prospect of what she'd offered to him. "I know, and I don't want you to hold back or be afraid. Tonight, everything is permitted," she said bravely.

"I think we might need some more drinks first, and maybe a soak in the tub for a bit, just to relax," he said.

She laughed, feeling much better. "Good idea."

He kissed her gently, giving her a smile, as much in thanks as in reassurance. He felt lightheaded and nervous. Mary wasn't one to talk about her feelings, even with him. He knew just how hard it was for her to express herself, let alone make herself vulnerable and uninhibited. He took her hand and helped her up from the sofa. Trying to appear as casual as possible, he could hear his heart beating faster as he went over to the bar to fetch two shot glasses and the bottle of Grey Goose. Giving her a soft kiss, he kept hold of her hand and led the way to the bedroom.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, December 2016**

"All right, I'm alone, I swear. Bertie's out with his mates. He won't be back for another hour or two at least," Edith said, smiling at Mary's image on the tablet screen. "So how was it?"

Mary rolled her eyes and glanced around before looking back at Edith. She pursed her lips and averted her eyes.

"Mary?" Edith asked, frowning at her sister. "Oh, come on, now. We're rather past the point of being shy, aren't we? You're the one who came to me and asked, and I told you everything. Bertie would be absolutely aghast if he found out, I'll have you know. Just tell me that it went all right, at least."

Finally, Mary nodded her head slightly. "Yes, it was all right," she said quietly.

Edith smirked. "Just all right? Did you tolerate it, or did you enjoy it?" she probed.

Mary looked up and glared at her sister. When Edith didn't look away, she allowed a slight smile to cross her lips as a blush warmed her cheeks. "Fine. Yes, it was good. Really good. God, I can't believe you're making me admit to it!"

Edith laughed and shook her head. "Oh, that's brilliant! I'm happy for you, honestly, and for Matthew."

Mary arched her eyebrow and smiled. "You don't need to be happy for him. He's elated. It's all he can think about, I imagine."

Edith bit her bottom lip and quirked her eyebrows at her sister. "Well, surely he hasn't demanded that you do it again? He wouldn't do that. I know he wouldn't."

Mary blushed deeper and looked down. "No, he didn't bring it up again. He didn't have to. I did."

Edith covered her mouth as she shook with laugher. "Goodness. You slut!"

Mary's mouth fell open in shock and her eyes went wide. When Edith kept laughing in response, she just smiled and shook her head. "That's rich, coming from you. Now, not a word of this to anyone, not even Sybil. Especially not Sybil."

"Yes, yes, my lips are sealed," Edith promised. "Oh, darling, I must say that you have really impressed me. I never thought you would give him another chance and look at the both of you now. He's always been so good to you and now you're really trying in return. It's really great, honestly."

"Thank you," Mary said smugly. "I'm quite surprised, myself, sometimes. Anyway, enough about that. We needn't discuss it ever again. I wanted to show you what I'll be wearing on the cover of _Fashion_ magazine for next month's issue."

Edith grinned and nodded with approval as Mary showed her a sleek white dress with different coloured panels all along the front. "Wow, that's gorgeous. Who is that?"

"It's Erdem Winter 2017," Mary said. "It feels absolutely Heavenly. This was one of the best shoots I've ever done. I had a blast."

"Obviously. Henry wasn't there," Edith joked.

Mary laughed in agreement. "That's true. It was nice to have all the attention for once."

"Speaking of which, I saw him the other day actually. We were both at Maze for lunch, strangely enough," Edith advised.

"Yes, he's wrapped on _Thor_ , so he's on break until February," Mary said. "He was probably meeting with someone important to plan his next move."

"Any news on whether he's going to leave the show?" Edith asked.

"No, nothing. If I sleep with him, then he'll spill," Mary grumbled. "Matthew thinks I should just leave anyway, regardless of what he does. I must admit that on some days, I almost want to."

"There's so much politics and drama behind-the-scenes isn't there?" Edith asked, shaking her head in wonder.

"Always, darling, always," Mary said. "It never changes, you know? Don't you remember back years ago when I was in that play and there were all those rumours that I'd had abortions and what not? It was my understudy who started them all. People in the business are cutthroats, no matter how much they might smile to your face. It's everyone for themselves, and there's no such thing as a step too far with this lot. Do something as innocent as have a better audition, and suddenly you're the biggest bitch in the world and everyone wants to see you fail. It's worse than mean girls in high school."

"But what does it matter to Henry what you end up doing? If he wants to leave, then he should just leave. Why drag things out and keep everyone in the dark?" Edith asked.

"Leverage, essentially. If the network was to offer him a boatload of money to stay for one more year, he obviously would. He's coming off of an Emmy and _Thor_ will be a hit next year, even if he does only have a supporting role. He can call the shots and he knows it. He wants to maximize his power while he can," Mary explained, rolling her eyes. "Including with me, apparently."

"He can't honestly believe that you would do what he wants just to keep him on the show," Edith muttered.

"Who knows what twisted world he lives in?" Mary mused. "He isn't exactly the most well-adjusted person. Actors rarely are, to be fair. When you spend most of your days being told how wonderful you are, how you can have anything you want, how nothing is impossible, you begin to believe it."

"I don't know why you don't just end your…association…with him. Is it really worth all this misery he puts you through?" Edith asked.

"Matthew would say no. Aunt Rosmund would say yes," Mary said, shrugging her shoulders. "I think Henry expects that we'll still do appearances together even after he leaves the show, movie premieres and awards shows and such. If I could just get a leading role then I could cut him loose, honestly. If _Shattered_ does well and this next season of _Paladin_ is good, then that might be enough. We'll see. For now, it's all status quo."

"I just hope he's being as discrete as you are," Edith said. "I didn't see anything posted during his time filming in Australia, but now that he's back here, who knows who he's seeing and what he's doing?"

"Henry's experienced at this, I'll give him that much," Mary said. "He knows he can't be caught out. It would give me a convenient excuse to leave him and claim the moral high ground. He isn't living like a monk, that's for certain, but he's being careful, I'm sure of it. The public shame of being thrown over by any woman, let alone one who he considers an inferior actor to him, would enrage him."

"Let's hope so. Now, when will you be home?" Edith asked.

"Another two weeks, closer to middle of Christmas," Mary replied. "How's Granny?"

"About the same," Edith said, sighing resignedly. "She had a really bad week. She was delirious and didn't recognize anyone, not even Isobel. We had to sedate her. She also caught a bit of a cold, which always terrifies me. Mum says she's recovered, so there's that. I'm going back next week so I'll be able to spend more time with her."

Mary nodded, a frown crossing her face. "Well, keep me updated."

"I will," Edith said firmly. "Now, tell me what this short film is all about again?"

 **Nordstrom Eaton Centre, Downtown Toronto, Canada, December 2016**

"All right, so bottom line – are you going to be wearing tights, or not?" Sybil asked, her voice sounding teasing and playful through Matthew's headset.

He huffed and furrowed his brow wryly as he browsed the Women's Shoes section. "No, no tights. Sorry to disappoint you."

"Oh well. I suppose I'll just have to wait for that shower scene in _Shattered_ ," she said resignedly.

"Classy, Sybil. Real classy," he grumbled.

"Oh don't be like that. You've seen me in a bikini plenty of times. It's only fair," she noted.

"And this conversation escalated quickly," he deadpanned. "Shall I try and track down a photo of the shower scene and autograph it for you?"

"Oh, yes please! I'll frame it and put it on my night stand," she retorted.

"Tom will appreciate that, I'm sure," he said ruefully.

"He's almost more excited about you being in a Marvel movie than I am," she said, laughing knowingly. "He wants you to get him a photo of Captain America."

"We're not in the same movie," he said.

"I tried to tell him that. Anyway, I think it's brilliant all the same, darling, honestly," she said warmly.

"Thanks," he said, smiling as he wandered the area, easily stepping past other holiday shoppers. "I can't quite believe I got it. I think I'll be skeptical right up until I step on set."

"You're filming in Chicago?" she asked.

"Yeah, for three weeks in January," he confirmed. "After that, I'm doing two months off-and-on for this mob movie. You may have heard of it – it's called _The Irishman_."

There was silence on the line. He smiled before speaking again.

"Sybil? You there?" he asked.

" _The Irishman_?" she repeated. "You're going to be in a fucking Scorsese movie? Matthew, don't joke about this! Are you serious?"

"I signed when I was in Los Angeles," he said, grinning now as he looked around the department store to make sure no one was listening in. "It's just a supporting part. My name won't even be on the poster, most likely. But I figured there was no way I could pass it up."

"Of course you're not going to pass it up!" she squealed. "Oh my God, Matthew! You're going to be working with De Niro, and Al Pacino!"

"And Joe Pesci and Harvey Keitel, yes, though I won't have scenes with all of them," he said. "It should be fun."

"Oh, that's fantastic! I can't wait to tell Tom when he gets home! I can't believe you didn't mention this before! What did Mary say?" she demanded.

"She was happy, obviously," he stated. "She thinks I should try for a lead role in a movie, and she's right, but she agreed that I couldn't turn this down. Plus, I'll be a bit closer for filming, so I'll be able to go back to Toronto a few times while she's filming _Paladin_."

"That's good. Where will you be?" she asked.

He smirked. "New York."

She laughed. "Of course. Well, I suppose our guest room isn't good enough for a big movie star like you, but I hope you'll at least come by once or twice."

"Ha ha. The studio is putting me up at a hotel, but I'm going to need your cooking to get me through, for sure," he said. "Anyway, we can talk about it more when we're back at Downton."

"I can't wait! Everyone will be so chuffed for you. You told your mother, of course?" she said.

"Yes, she was quite shocked, actually. She told Violet and apparently she was quite pleased," he said.

"Of course she was. Granny loves you, you know that," she said. "All right, I've got to get back to work. I'll talk to you this weekend, darling. Congrats again. That's wonderful news, really. Love you!"

"Thanks. Love you too," he said, hanging up the call.

"Sir? May I help you?" a store clerk said, coming over and smiling sweetly at Matthew.

He nodded and motioned towards the posh display. "Yes, yes you can. I'm looking for a Christmas gift."

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, December 2016**

Herbert "Bertie" Pelham, Marquess of Hexham sighed and sipped his glass of water, staring out the window of the library at the snow covered fields. The moon and stars were bright, as they often were here in the country, casting a silver glow across the grounds. It was all quite picturesque, reminding him of his family home of Brancaster Castle in Northumberland, just a few hours away. He spent most of his time in London, or traveling to Tangier and Dakar for business. Getting to spend a few days in the country was a welcome change, a chance to relax with Edith and slow down a bit.

Sadly, this visit had not been particularly cheerful thus far.

He looked up as the door opened and Matthew came in. The two men shared a knowing glance before he took a Coke from the bar fridge and came over to join him.

"How is she?" Bertie asked.

"Not good. She's sleeping, finally, but it wasn't easy seeing her like that," Matthew said wearily. "She knew all of us, even Tom, but she kept fading in and out, just seemed really confused and not entirely there. Tom and Sybil went to bed. Edith and Mary are still in with her. They'll probably just head to bed soon, too."

Bertie nodded sympathetically. "It must be rather devastating for the family."

"It's strange, you know? Logically, we all know that she's going to have more and more days like this. We've known for a while, read about it, spoken to doctors, even watched videos online and what not. Nothing really prepares you for it, though. No matter how much you try and ready yourself, it's just impossible to think that this is the same Violet Crawley that we all know," Matthew said, shaking his head.

Bertie nodded in understanding. "You know, I had met Lady Grantham years before I met Edith. Mother introduced us at some function in London, and I would see her off and on at other events and such. She was always kind and approachable, entirely different from what I'd heard her reputation to be. The first time Edith introduced me formally as her boyfriend was at a luncheon here, just out by the Rose Garden. She took one look, raised her chin, locked those razor sharp eyes on me and said…"

"Don't you go and botch this up, now," Matthew finished, shaking his head.

Bertie chuckled, smiling ruefully. "So you got the same going over, did you?"

Matthew nodded. "I spent summers here growing up. Violet let me have it on more than one occasion, long before Mary and I were even old enough to date. Mother says that Violet knew quite early on that we would end up together. That's one of those Violet stories that seems to take on a life of its own, but she's rarely wrong."

Bertie finished his water and nodded to Matthew. "I'm going to head up. Goodnight, Matthew. Let's hope tomorrow is a better day, for all of us."

Matthew nodded and watched him go. Soon, he was alone, the large house feeling empty and a bit cold. He looked out to the winter night and hoped that Bertie was right.

* * *

He was half-asleep when Mary came to his bedroom in the Bachelor's Wing, the time well past midnight. There was always an unspoken protocol here, a bit of a remnant of days past. As the only married couple amongst the Crawley sisters, Sybil and Tom shared a bedroom every time that they visited, but Mary and Matthew, and now Edith and Bertie, were separated, the women in their old childhood bedrooms, and the men in the Bachelor's Wing. It was all rather strange, particularly given that he and Mary had been dating for years longer than Sybil and Tom, and that his own mother shared a suite of rooms with Violet in the Family Wing. Still, he never questioned it, never raised any objection when Carson had one of the footmen bring his luggage to the bedroom he'd been using since he was 8 years old. He didn't know if it was the terror of mentioning his desire to share a bed with Mary to her parents, or the secret thrill they got from sneaking into each other's rooms in the middle of the night, but they honoured the tradition and maintained the image of sleeping in separate rooms without complaint.

When he heard her open the door and pad across the carpet towards him, he pulled the duvet aside and made room for her. Tonight wasn't about a late night dalliance. Tonight they both needed comfort.

"Darling," he whispered as she came into his arms, burrowing her head against his neck and shoulder. He stroked her back, running his hands over the thin camisole, her leg automatically stretching across his, finding their usual position.

"God," she said, sighing heavily. "Am I terrible for wanting to just go to London or Toronto and get away from all of this?"

"You're not terrible. You're scared. So am I," he said quietly.

"She was so sharp just yesterday," she said forlornly. "When we watched _Paladin_ , she was following along with everything, critiquing all the performances, pointing out the gaps in the plot, it was brilliant. And today, it's like none of that ever happened, as if it never mattered."

"It does matter. It matters a great deal," he said firmly. "We have to believe that in the moment, it gave her joy, and even now, the memory is in there, waiting to come back up. We just have to be patient."

"I used to think I would never let her go if I could help it," she said, sniffling a bit. "I told myself that they're discovering new treatments and breakthroughs all the time. As long as we keep her strong enough to fight, it's worth every effort, and I still believe that, but on nights like tonight, I can't help but wonder…"

"What kind of life is it, really, that she has now, if things don't turn," he whispered.

She sobbed and hugged him tighter.

"I love you. I love you so much," she cried against his skin. "It's so unfair what I make you put up with, but I…"

"Shh," he said, kissing her forehead. "I love you too, darling. Try and get some sleep, all right? Tomorrow will be better, you'll see."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remain still, letting the warmth of him wash over her, letting his scent lull her to sleep.

He kept his arms around her, his hand rubbing her back slowly, his eyes staying open until he was certain she was asleep.

* * *

The next day was better, and the day after that better still. Violet was able to join the family for meals and even ventured into the Village, although between the handwringing of the girls, Cora and Isobel, she was bundled up in so many layers that there was no hope of a single snowflake getting through, let alone the flu. She insisted on sitting nearby as Cora and her daughters gave out presents to the servants and the children from the Village. She even had a video chat with patients at the hospital, Isobel insisting that she not take her usual tour for fear she might catch something. They only let her out of her room for a few hours at a time, and she spent more hours in bed each day than she did out of it. The paranoia and coddling grated on the Dowager Countess' last nerve, but no amount of snide barbs or guilt trips would sway her family, and even Carson was on their side, so she had to go along with it all.

For Matthew it felt surreal just being here again for Christmas. It had been years. Mother had met him in Manchester for the past few Christmases so he wouldn't have to see Mary, it being understood that their breakup meant an end to sharing holidays at Downton Abbey. Though Mary was hardly one to be affectionate with him in front of her family, being able to sit and read with her, take walks and sleigh rides across the frozen grounds, even just sitting next to her at dinner felt lovely, leaving all the disappointment and bitterness of the past behind.

They went to Midnight Mass at the Village Church once more, the whole family saying a bit of a special prayer for Granny this year. Christmas Day brought the annual custom of the family making brunch for themselves, having given the servants the week off. Mary was in charge of the eggs, Edith the pancakes and Sybil the ham and sausage, with Matthew, Bertie and Tom dealing with the fruit and following orders as best they could. Brunch was a bit sloppy, but delicious, with Violet and Isobel able to come down and join them to eat and open presents afterwards.

Matthew left most of Mary's presents back in Toronto, feeling it wasn't necessarily wise to make a huge fuss in front of the family. He gave her a lovely scarf and matching gloves, and a set of earrings that all the ladies agreed were beautiful. Mary drew applause and laughter when he unwrapped the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier LEGO set, a bit of a tribute to his upcoming role in _Black Panther_. His actual gift was a lovely tie with matching clip and cuff links that seemed far more something she would get for him.

The afternoon was spent in the sitting room, relaxing by the fire, turning off all of their phones and just talking and laughing together. Sybil brought out the photo albums and legends and tales of holidays and seasons past were recounted and embellished. Mum and Papa would wander in and out. Even during Christmas, there was always something for the Earl of Grantham to attend to, it seemed. Matthew thought he heard Robert talking to Murray in his study, which seemed odd. Lawyers took Christmas off, didn't they?

The men took over for dinner and produced a tasty roast with Yorkshire pudding and vegetables. Rather than go through for drinks afterwards though, Robert and Cora followed Isobel and Violet upstairs, leaving the three couples to head to the Music Room.

"I'm almost tempted to go up now myself," Mary said, shaking her head as she leaned against Matthew. "It's been quite a day. Besides, you lot should go to bed early if you want to leave in the morning."

"We'll be fine. We aren't due at Brancaster until the afternoon," Bertie mentioned, giving Edith an encouraging smile.

"There's no rush for us either," Tom echoed. "My parents are running around London with my sister and her kids for most of the day, so we're not meeting up until dinner time."

"Besides," Bertie added. "I've been looking forward to tonight for weeks now."

"Don't get your hopes up too high," Sybil warned. "We're rather out of practice."

Tom smiled and patted her hand.

They came into the room and Matthew lit the gas fireplace, a warm glow soon spreading to every corner. Edith took her place at the piano, and Tom picked up the guitar, playing a few chords with Edith to tune it properly. They started off with _Silent Night_ , Mary singing the first few verses and Sybil the last. _The Christmas Song_ , _Birth of Christ_ , and _O Holy Night_ soon followed, the men joining in when they felt like it. Mary and her sisters had been singing Christmas carols for decades, and they slid back into their usual routine automatically whenever any given song was played. They all knew who would sing each verses, who would harmonize on what chorus and when they would improvise and add their own touches. Their spirits lifted as they went along, going through numerous holiday classics, Matthew and Tom joining in here and there. Even Bertie took a turn, though he tried to be as quiet as possible, much to Edith's amusement.

"Let's do something a bit different. Try this one," Edith declared, casting a glance at Tom. She began playing a few sombre notes, everyone immediately recognizing the song.

Matthew shared a knowing glance with Mary. As the only two professionally trained singers in the group, they often sang to stay in practice, sometimes just choosing whatever songs they heard on the radio and doing quick renditions. Neither of them knew if or when their next musical would come along, but they still did vocal exercises as often as they could. Similarly, Edith played the piano off and on, usually to help her relax, and Sybil just liked to sing. When they were younger and still living here, they had impromptu concerts far more often, any given night threatening to become a full-blown karaoke session, any car ride potentially turned into a sing-a-long. Now, music gave them all a bit of solace, a kind of escape, and so as Edith played the same series of notes once more, this time, Mary closed her eyes and sang the first verse right on cue.

 _'Everybody loves the things you do, from the way you talk to the way you move. Everybody here is watching you cause you feel like home, you're like a dream come true…'_

Tom joined in on guitar when she reached the first chorus, but everyone else just watched as she went through Adele's _When We Were Young_ , the haunting sadness in her voice so poignant in that they all knew where her emotion came from, and shared in it.

She finally opened her eyes before the second verse began, expecting Edith or Sybil to take over. They had never sang this song together before, but instead of one of her sisters continuing on, another voice filled the room.

 _'I was so scared to face my fears cause nobody told me that you'd be here. And I swear you'd moved overseas. That's what you said when you left me. You still look like a movie, you still sound like a song, my God this reminds me of when we were young. Let me photograph you in this light in case it is the last time that we might be exactly like we were before we realized we were scared of getting old, it made us restless. It was just like a movie, it was just like a song…'_

She watched Matthew as he sang, his blue eyes remaining on hers, his baritone powerful and captivating. It was like it was back at The Rex when they stumbled upon his concert, as though everyone else in the room wasn't here anymore, and even though he didn't know she was there back then, it felt like he was just singing to her, the two of them locked in a moment that made her heartbeat jump.

Sybil and Edith took up the background vocals as Mary found her voice again and Matthew ceded the third verse to her. She looked at him bravely, smiling when he sang the chorus with her to the end of the song. When Edith played the last note, she didn't feel sad or even nostalgic. Whatever happened in the past, they were together now, and even with Granny's health casting a shadow over everything, she was grateful he was here.

He smiled at her, the same thoughts seeming to pass behind those beautiful blue eyes. Reaching out, he high-fived her and then went and did the same with the others. Mary just shook her head and laughed.

"Right. What _Lady Gaga_ songs do we all know?" Sybil asked eagerly.

* * *

"Do you hear that?" Cora asked, smiling as she looked at her husband lying in bed.

Robert lifted his head and frowned. It was a very big house, but an old one, and between the wooden walls and floors that were not all entirely insulated and the plumbing, which was rather old in some parts of the house, sound could travel rather far. "The girls are singing again?"

"They are," she confirmed, nodding her head. "I'm so glad. They've been so down all week."

"We all have been to a degree, and with good reason," he said, sighing as he looked up at the ceiling.

"Robert, it's been a good night. Let's be glad for it and not think about anything else," she suggested.

He looked at her sadly and nodded, reaching out and taking her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed her palm. "I just don't want what we did to affect the girls, that's all."

"They're stronger than you think, and besides, it'll never get out," she said, her voice more confident than she felt. "What happened, happened. It was long ago, and honestly, I don't regret anything. We have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed, my darling, but the public perception of things is far different than what you and I might think, you know that," he said. "If word got out somehow…"

"Jane won't tell. I know she won't," she said.

"I know she won't want to, but the media can be relentless when they have the bit between their teeth, especially those deplorable tabloids. When it comes to choosing between protecting her son and protecting us, I know what choice she'll make, and I wouldn't blame her one bit," he admitted.

"None of that, not now," she said, leaning over and kissing him. "Let's celebrate that we've made it to another happy Christmas, all of us together."

He nodded and took her in his arms, kissing her softly as his hand reached up and pulled the strap of her nightgown off her shoulder. "Very well, my dear."

 **Daily Mail Head Office, Northcliffe House, Kensington, London, England, December 2016**

"God, what happened to you?" she asked, coming over and hopping up on to his desk.

"You bloody well know what happened to me. You and a bottle of tequila. Never a good combination," he mumbled, his head in his hands, a low whinge leaving his lips."

"Are you saying you didn't enjoy it?" she challenged.

He raised his head and looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. Giving her a crooked smile, he shook his head slightly. "I never said that." He then buried his head in his hands again and went back to groaning.

"Well, I have something here that might make you feel much, much better," she chirped.

"Sweetie, not now. I'm afraid I'm going to be useless to you until at least sometime tonight," he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temples.

"I wasn't talking about that!" she sniped, taking a USB stick out of her trouser pocket and handing it to him. "I was talking about this."

"What the fuck is this?" he asked, almost fumbling it as he took it from her.

"Delivered in an unmarked envelope just now. Check it out. It's safe, I already scanned it," she said.

He turned and looked at his computer screen with bleary eyes, putting the USB stick into his computer. Squinting, he moved the mouse around clumsily before she finally took over and opened the video file for him.

It took him several seconds to understand what he was seeing. The picture looked blurry to him, but that was probably due to the hangover than anything else. It took him even longer to understand the voices and he had to play the whole thing back again. On the third try, he was able to blink enough to wake up a bit, and he watched far more attentively. When the video ended, he glanced over at her, his mouth open.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Looks like it to me," she agreed, smiling conspiratorially.

"We need corroboration. Try and track down where this is, see if you can confirm any of it," he barked.

"Already on it. Do you want to give a heads-up to his people before we publish?" she asked.

"Hell no," he said firmly. "Give them a chance to get an army of lawyers up my arse to stop it? Freedom of the press and all that, you know?"

She laughed and shook her head. "You're ever so cute when you're being mean, you know that?"

"I can be more than just cute," he growled, leering at her and grabbing her hand to pull her towards his lap.

She yelped in surprise and chuckled as she perched on his knee. "I thought you said that you were useless until tonight?"

"I'm willing to give it a go," he said confidently, fondling her breast through her blouse. "We're going to be breaking the story of the year when this goes live. That's enough to get any man going."

She laughed as he pulled her into a firm kiss, his hand moving down to grab her arse through her skirt. The office was mostly deserted for the holidays, and it would take her some time to locate the hotel where the video was taken and confirm the date and so on, but she was confident she could. The pictures alone spoke volumes, and would raise enough suspicion and questions that all amounts of denials and objections would fall on deaf ears. Story of the year. More like scandal of the year. It would be a bloody hurricane, and they wouldn't know what hit them.

* * *

 **Song Credits:**

 **When We Were Young -** Adele, 2016, XL


	18. Chapter 18

**Previously:**

 **Daily Mail Head Office, Northcliffe House, Kensington, London, England, December 2016**

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Looks like it to me," she agreed, smiling conspiratorially.

"We need corroboration. Try and track down where this is, see if you can confirm any of it," he barked.

"Already on it. Do you want to give a heads-up to his people before we publish?" she asked.

"Hell no," he said firmly. "Give them a chance to get an army of lawyers up my arse to stop it? Freedom of the press and all that, you know?"

She laughed and shook her head. "You're ever so cute when you're being mean, you know that?"

"I can be more than just cute," he growled, leering at her and grabbing her hand to pull her towards his lap.

She yelped in surprise and chuckled as she perched on his knee. "I thought you said that you were useless until tonight?"

"I'm willing to give it a go," he said confidently, fondling her breast through her blouse. "We're going to be breaking the story of the year when this goes live. That's enough to get any man going."

She laughed as he pulled her into a firm kiss, his hand moving down to grab her arse through her skirt. The office was mostly deserted for the holidays, and it would take her some time to locate the hotel where the video was taken and confirm the date and so on, but she was confident she could. The pictures alone spoke volumes, and would raise enough suspicion and questions that all amounts of denials and objections would fall on deaf ears. Story of the year. More like scandal of the year. It would be a bloody hurricane, and they wouldn't know what hit them.

 **Chapter 18:**

 **Grantham Arms Pub, Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, January 1, 2017**

"Umm, hi, sorry, but are you, like, Matthew Crawley? The Armani guy? You are, right?"

Matthew smiled sheepishly and looked up at the rather buxom blonde who was standing before him, iPhone poised in her hand. She couldn't be older than 20, he thought fleetingly. Catching Tom's amused expression out of the corner of his eye, he smiled politely and nodded.

"Yes, that's me," he said.

"Oh my God, you are so gorgeous in person!" the girl squealed. "Can I have a picture please?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied, standing up.

The girl let out a happy yelp as she turned on her camera app and held her phone up to take a selfie. Her arm went around Matthew's back and she leaned in close.

"Erm, would you mind not touching me?" he asked. "My girlfriend gets a bit jealous, sorry."

"Oh, no worries!" the girl said, removing her arm but still leaning close enough to Matthew that she may as well have kept a hold of him anyway. She grinned up at the camera. He kept his lips closed, smiling as she took the photo.

"Thank you so much!" she gushed, giving him a hug.

He kept his arms at his sides and waited for her to release him. "Sure. Have a good night."

He frowned at Tom as he sat back down. "Don't say a word," he warned, sipping his beer.

"What? I'm impressed. That's the third one tonight," Tom said, grinning. "Wait 'til I tell Sybil."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that'll be great, thanks. She won't let me hear the end of it. They're all from the same table over there. It's probably a bet they have going or something."

"Oh, it's all in good fun, mate," Tom said reassuringly, sipping his own beer. "What do you say if they ask you who your girlfriend is?"

"No one ever has," Matthew replied. "I've gotten a few confused looks but I just don't want photos of complete strangers being too familiar posted up across social media. I don't know these people. They all seem innocent enough, but who knows? Better to just take a nice, neutral shot with no chance of misinterpretation."

"Misinterpretation by who, exactly? Mary?" Tom joked.

"No," Matthew said defensively. "She wouldn't care, if she even knew at all. She doesn't check to see who's tagged me in photos, I'm sure."

"Well she'd hardly have any right to protest, considering all the shots of her and Henry littering the Internet," Tom said, shrugging his shoulders.

Matthew gave him a wry smirk. "Right, something like that. Anyway, no, what I meant was you never know what anyone's agenda is. I'm not important at all, or worth scheming over, but there's a lot of strange people out there. They ask for your autograph and the next thing you know, it's on ebay. They want to take a selfie, then they manipulate it and put it online with you looking drunk, or high, or worse. It's a necessary thing to interact with fans, but you have to always be on your guard."

"I don't think your autograph is worth all that trouble there, mate," Tom said.

Matthew laughed and shook his head. "No, of course it's not. I was speaking in the hypothetical."

They went back to drinking and enjoying the busy atmosphere of the bar. After spending the past few days in London with his family, Tom had brought Sybil back to Downton Abbey for New Year's Eve, and soon they would all be flying back to North America. He and Matthew had managed to set aside tonight to leave the Crawley family behind and have a few pints, just the two of them. It was a ritual of theirs, though it was becoming increasingly difficult to find time for it. As outsiders to the House of Grantham, they tried to stick together whenever they could. Tom and Matthew had gotten along famously right from the off, but both of them being in love with Crawley girls had only solidified their friendship. Matthew was Tom's best man at the wedding, and Tom would have been a groomsman at Matthew's, though that was years ago, before Mary rejected his proposal and left for Toronto. Tom was elated when Matthew and Mary got back together six months ago. Matthew was his friend regardless, but he was grateful to have him back in the family once again.

Tom took another sip of his beer as he looked up at one of the televisions in the pub. They were showing a replay of a women's tennis match from Australia or somewhere. He smiled as one of the players gave a rather loud grunt as she hit the ball down the line for a winner. The match cut to commercial, and he blinked as Mary's face came on the screen.

 _'I have a confession to make. I'm not nearly as sorry about any of this as I pretend to be.'_

Matthew looked up at the sound of Mary's voice. He watched as the commercial played out, essentially consisting of numerous scenes from the trailer that he'd already seen, this time edited in a different sequence with different music and voiceovers. When the show logo filled the screen, he went back to his beer.

"When's the season finale again?" Tom asked, returning to his drink.

"Two weeks," Matthew said. "I'll be in Chicago so we're going to watch it together over Skype."

"Right," Tom said. He smiled sheepishly and glanced around the bar before leaning towards Matthew. "Can I tell you something?"

Matthew looked at him curiously. "Of course."

"I fucking hate that show," Tom said, grinning.

Matthew snorted and chuckled at the admission. "Crikey. Wait until Mary hears that."

Tom's mouth fell open and the blood seemed to drain from his face. "What?" he sputtered. "You…you wouldn't…you can't!"

Matthew laughed and shook his head. "Your secret is safe with me, but the look on your face was quite priceless."

"Christ, Matthew!" Tom complained, sitting back in his chair and taking a swig of beer. "I think Mary's great in it, really, but the story's all over the place, I can barely keep up. And her character is…I don't know…it's like they're trying so hard to make her seem like such a badass, but there's no real depth to anything she does. I keep reading about how she's such a complex character, but I think she's just a bitch, that's it. Like, I get it – she's the equal of any man. But, do they have to have her slicing a guy's bollocks off every episode to prove it?"

Matthew laughed again. "Well, tell me how you really feel, then."

"I don't know, maybe it's cause I always have guys from the Entertainment section coming to me and telling me about this show and that show that's supposed to be amazing and whatever, but most of these shows are all hype and that's it. If Mary wasn't in it, I wouldn't even watch it," Tom said.

Matthew just smiled and finished his beer, putting the glass down and sliding it away.

"I won't ask you to give your opinion, don't worry," Tom said knowingly.

Matthew laughed. "I'm biased, obviously. I don't watch the show regularly, but I look at it from her perspective. I know how hard she works. She puts in crazy hours, you know. She works her ass off for that show, getting the accent right, running her lines, figuring out inflection and tone, body language, training for the fight scenes. She just cares, and you can see it in her performances. No matter how ridiculous the plot, or her dialogue, or whatever, it's obvious how much she invests of herself in the role, and so I respect that. I think people sometimes assume that acting is just looking pretty and repeating what you're told to say. As an actor, when I see what she does, it's brilliant, honestly. I know how hard it really is."

Tom smiled and nodded. "You're right. You are biased."

Matthew smiled. "It's not just her effort, though. She's a bit stuck because the networks and studios all have this idea of what a 'modern woman' is supposed to be. She has to be mysterious, smart, but not too smart, able to save herself, yet still be vulnerable and demure, flawed, but still redeemable, run, fight, yell, and look gorgeous while doing it. I see what you're saying. Jade isn't a very likable character. There's a lot about her that makes you wonder why the audience should even care about what she's going through. But that's not on Mary. With the material she has to work with, I think she's done amazing."

"I get it, all right? You love her. Relax, holy fuck," Tom said sarcastically, smirking at Matthew.

"Sod off, yeah?" Matthew retorted, looking back up at the television.

"So things are good with you two right?" Tom asked, looking at Matthew carefully.

"Yeah," Matthew said, turning back and nodding slowly. "Things are really good, actually. It's been great being back here. Even with what's happening to Violet, being at Downton is like a nice escape from everything. It's a different world here, still. It's been fun not having to share her, like old times, but better."

Tom nodded in understanding.

"Why do you ask?" Matthew questioned.

"Just wanted to check," Tom said. "I know how important this is to you, and I expect you're getting a bit nervous, since you'll be apart for the next three weeks and you've been inseparable for the past six months."

"Yeah," Matthew said, sighing at the prospect. "But, you know, three weeks isn't that long, and even if I was still in Toronto, we wouldn't be seeing each other as often anyway. I'd be filming and she'd be busy with readings and prep for shooting the next season of _Paladin_ in February. The last six months have been like something out of a dream. Our lives aren't going to be like that all the time, so this little stretch might be good for us, actually, let us get used to not seeing each other constantly."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Tom asked.

"No, but it sounds rather mature, doesn't it?" Matthew said ruefully.

Tom chuckled and nodded his head in agreement.

"Anyway, I'll be in New York by the end of February, so this is what our lives will be for the next six months. We'll adjust. It's not that big of a deal," Matthew finished.

"Sybil will talk her into coming down a few times," Tom said reassuringly.

Matthew nodded. "Yeah, exactly. We'll be fine. Plus, we've got the Golden Globes and the SAG Awards this month, so there's that, too."

"Yeah, that's right. Are you getting to walk the red carpet with her this time, at least?" Tom asked.

"No, she's still going with Henry to both, since they're both nominated," Matthew grumbled. "But that's all right. Walking the red carpet isn't that crazy. It's fun, but if I was to go with Mary, we'd be slogging along with how many people want to take her photo and ask her questions. I can get through it much faster when it's just me. Besides, it's not as if everyone gets to bring their significant other on to the red carpet. Most people just go by themselves."

"Great, so we have to listen to more of his fake platitudes? Shit," Tom said dismissively.

"Afraid so," Matthew said, sighing resignedly.

"I don't know how you put up with all that," Tom said, shaking his head. "You should see when I go and visit Sybil at the hospital. There's all these rich douches that she works with, I swear half of 'em are eyeing her whenever I'm there. Bunch of bastards."

"It's not as though I have a choice," Matthew noted. "If it wasn't Henry, it'd be someone else. She's an actress. She's going to be working opposite other men, doing love scenes, whatever, that's just how it is."

"Yeah, but still," Tom replied. "Anyway, you're far more tolerant than I am."

"No, I'm not. I just hide it better than you do," Matthew said. "When I'm at the gym and shadowboxing, who do you think I'm picturing?"

Tom smiled.

"Anyway, you know what would happen if I tried to tell Mary to quit all this 'showmance' nonsense, or worse, tried to tell her what she should be doing," Matthew said. "I just have to trust her that when she says it means nothing, it really means nothing. That's all."

Tom nodded. He finished his beer and put his glass down, waving his hand to get the waitress' attention and ordering another round.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, January 1, 2017**

"Yeah…yeah…well, that's why we got it for you…yeah…yeah…yeah, I know…you just have to make sure you don't put too much in…right…exactly…okay…look, Mum, I've got to let you go, yeah? Right…all right…yeah, I will…okay…yeah…I'll tell him…bye…bye…love you, bye," Anna said patiently, finally hanging up the call and tossing her headset on the counter. She sighed and left the kitchen, walking into the living room and joining her husband on the sofa.

"Mum says hi to her favourite son-in-law. You're her only son-in-law, but let's not bother mentioning that," she said, smiling at him. "She keeps going on and on about the washer and dryer. She discovered the 'hand washing feature'. God help us all."

Alex chuckled, keeping his eyes on his laptop screen as he kept typing. "Well, I'm glad she's enjoying her Christmas present. Her old set was an accident just waiting to happen."

"What's all that?" she asked, watching as he worked on a spreadsheet.

"I have some clients in China who want to get in on a big tent pole release next year," he explained. "All the big releases are set already, but there may be some dormant projects that we might revive if the fit is right. Of course, that means researching dozens of films that have been dead for months or longer. Just trying to put together something for my meetings next month."

She nodded as she followed along. "You are going to be back in time for Valentine's, yeah?"

He stopped typing and looked at her. "Love, would I miss spending Valentine's with my gorgeous wife?"

She smiled and kissed him softly. "Just checking. You know I hate it when you travel."

"Do you? You're the one who's usually flying all over the place without me," he countered.

"Yes, but that was in the past. With Mary coming back next week, she'll be here until June filming, so I'm not going anywhere," she said smugly.

"Don't tease me," he said, smirking at her knowingly. "You've got two awards shows this month alone."

"Which you will be attending also," she said pointedly.

He grinned at her. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," she mimicked him in a deep voice. Rising up from the sofa, she leaned over and gave him a warm kiss.

"Don't work too late, babes. I can't sleep without you," she said, smiling and heading off down the hall towards the stairs.

He watched her go, then turned back to his laptop, frowning in concentration as he got back to work.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, January 2, 2017**

"Edith's engaged. I can't believe it!" Sybil exclaimed, smiling and shaking her head.

"What's so hard to believe?" Mary asked, making both of them a vodka and tonic and bringing the drinks over to the sofa. "I'll admit that 'Lady Edith Pelham, Marchioness of Hexham' doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, but I think she and Bertie are quite well matched. Anyway, it was about time that he proposed. Popping the question on New Year's Eve is rather unoriginal, but it's fitting, coming from Bertie."

Sybil glared at her sister pointedly.

"Oh come on, darling, I'm happy for her, honestly," Mary said, smirking as she sipped her drink. "Edith isn't terribly ambitious, we know that. She's found a man to give her a position, a life, and good for her. Of all three of us, she was the one most likely to follow in Granny and Mum's footsteps, so good for her."

"Well it most certainly wouldn't have been me," Sybil said, laughing at the thought.

"No, you're ever the rebel of the family. We all know that," Mary teased.

"Only in our family would becoming a doctor make one a rebel," Sybil said, shaking her head.

"Becoming a doctor isn't what made you a rebel and you know it. It was running off with an Irish journalist, of all people," Mary said, smirking at her.

Sybil rolled her eyes. "We didn't run off! Anyway, Edith's done her duty and brought a Marquess into the family, so she's saved us all."

"She has," Mary agreed. "I'm sure she'll be pregnant before the end of next year."

"She's likely not to be the only one," Sybil said, smiling and sipping her drink.

"Yes, well, God willing, Anna will be with child as well," Mary agreed. "She wants children so badly, you know. I really hope it happens soon for them. I know Alex isn't bothered by waiting, but Anna's so obsessed with it. Every month that passes feels like she's failed somehow. I've told her that's nonsense, but I know it still gets to her."

"I wasn't talking about Anna," Sybil noted quietly.

Mary took another sip of her drink, then blinked and turned her head to look at Sybil questioningly.

"What are you saying?" Mary asked.

Sybil smiled mysteriously, then finally met her sister's confused look. "Tom and I are trying," she said.

Mary's mouth fell open, then she recovered, a smile spreading across her face instantly. "Oh, darling! How wonderful!"

Sybil grinned and nodded. "We were just waiting for his work to calm down after the election. I don't want Mama or Granny to know anything about it yet, but I've been off the pill for about two months now."

"My, you're not playing around," Mary stated. "I always assumed you would wait a few more years before starting a family."

"No, I'm probably already behind, if I'm honest," Sybil said plainly. "My schedule is manageable now, but in a few years I'll be one of the more experienced doctors in the practice group and my hours will be much longer. We want more than one child, so we need to get started."

Mary nodded, her mind spinning at this revelation.

"So you'll be a bridesmaid next year, and with any luck, an aunt as well," Sybil said.

Mary smiled kindly. "Here's hoping," she said, taking a longer drink.

"Of course, you could always join in on the fun," Sybil remarked.

Mary frowned at her. "What? How? Oh…Sybil, just don't…"

"I'm just saying…" Sybil began.

"Stop," Mary interrupted, holding up her hand. "We've been together for barely six months."

Sybil arched her eyebrow knowingly. "Six months, darling? Really? You've been together longer than me and Tom."

"So what? You're saying I should marry Matthew because of his persistence? Please," Mary scoffed.

"Not just his persistence," Sybil retorted. "He loves you. God, he adores you, and you love him. He's the only man who's ever connected with you so deeply, and he just gets you, you know that he does. Your life can be so complicated, and intense, and even bizarre, and he understands that. He tolerates things that so many others wouldn't. I just don't know what you're waiting for."

"Sybil, six months of happiness is not enough of a foundation to build an entire lifetime on!" Mary protested. "You've seen our life in Toronto. It's isolated and idyllic. We don't have any distractions, or pressures, or even that many duties to fulfill. We were able to spend nearly everyday together while we were filming. That's not what real life will be like. As our careers progress and evolve, we'll have less time together, beginning next week when he moves to Chicago to start on _Black Panther_. How can I possibly make any conclusions about our future when the past six months have been so easy?"

"Did it ever occur to you that the past six months have seemed easy because you love him?" Sybil asked. "What split you apart before no longer applies. He's been more than supportive of you and your career. I just think that you shouldn't put it off for too long. If you keep waiting, looking for something to go wrong, you'll lose sight of all that's right with the two of you."

"Duly noted," Mary said drily. "Matthew and I aren't getting married next year. Besides the fact that it would be insane to do so, Edith would kill me for stealing her thunder."

"As if that would stop you," Sybil scoffed. "Darling, just please don't take him for granted. You might be perfectly happy to live in the moment, but this is Matthew we're talking about. If he says he hasn't thought of a future with you, then he's lying."

Mary rolled her eyes and turned away, taking another sip of her drink.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, January 3, 2017**

"I wish you would come visit, even if it's just for a week. You could use a bit of time off," Matthew said, escorting his mother down the stairs to the Great Hall.

"You already know the answer to that ridiculous question, but thank you anyway," Isobel said kindly, squeezing his hand. "Besides, you won't even be in Toronto. You'll be in Chicago, then New York. Between your travel and Mary working, I'd be stranded there."

"You could come over in the Spring," he objected. "The city is quite beautiful then. Once Winter's gone, it's all refreshed and renewed."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said firmly. "My place is here."

"Mother, I love her too," he declared. "But you know that these next months will be…"

"My place is here," she repeated, giving him a stern look before softening her expression as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "I can't leave. I don't want to leave."

"All right," he relented, nodding his head. "I'll call you when we land."

"I know you will," she said, smiling and reaching up to pat his cheek.

They walked together towards the front door and joined the others. The footmen were loading all the luggage into the waiting limo, and Sybil and Mary were saying their goodbyes while Tom stood patiently by. Matthew went through the line, giving Cora a hug, shaking hands with Robert, Carson and some of the footmen before he reached Violet.

The Dowager Countess was sitting regally on a chair, both hands resting on her cane. She smiled politely and nodded her head when he approached. Her eyes had a vacant look about them now, as though she wasn't entirely focused on what she was looking at. It made his chest tighten to see her like this as he crouched down to kiss her on the cheek and give her a hug.

"Goodbye, Violet," he said softly, smiling bravely at her. "I'll see you soon."

"Take good care of Mary, my boy," Violet ordered, smiling up at him. "Remember that you must be strong. The early days can be so very exciting, and yet so easily disconcerting as well. You must learn to weave your way through the peaks and valleys. Enjoy every victory, and do not dwell on your defeats."

"Yes, your Ladyship," he replied, squeezing her hand.

He took one last look at her, then joined the others and went out to the limo. Once they were all settled and the car pulled away, he noticed Mary staring out the window, looking back at Downton Abbey until it disappeared behind the horizon.

 **74th Golden Globe Awards, The Beverly Hilton Hotel, Los Angeles, California, USA, January 8, 2017**

"Mary! You look gorgeous!" Mabel exclaimed, coming over and giving Mary a warm hug.

"Thank you," Mary said, patting her loosely on the back. "Your dress is lovely, too."

"Thank you, thank you. Congratulations on the nomination. I know it will come as little consolation, but I really thought you should have won," Mabel said.

"You're right, it isn't much consolation, but thank you all the same," Mary said, nodding in acknowledgment.

The Golden Globes were a rather more fun affair than the Emmys, even though they were considered more prestigious, second only to the Oscars. All the nominees sat at tables rather than in rows, and there was a lot of mingling and drinking, even during the ceremony. As the night wore on, Mary had grown increasingly nervous and had her fair share of drinks to help her get through Henry's horrible flirting. When he won the Golden Globe for Best Actor – Television Series Drama, he smiled devilishly and leaned towards her, the camera squarely on them as everyone at the table stood up and applauded. Mary smiled and did her part, accepting his kiss and beaming proudly as he squeezed her hand and went up to accept his award. His acceptance speech had been sufficiently sappy and patronising to annoy her even more. Her category followed directly after his, and when she lost once again and had to applaud and smile through someone else's victory, she was almost ready to do straight vodka shots on live television.

She made up for it by the time they got to the major film awards near the end of the show. Catherine challenged her to a drinking game. Mary won.

Now she stood patiently off to the side while Henry waited for his award to be engraved and accepted the congratulations of everyone who came by. From here, they would go on to the after parties and she would once more be an accessory on his arm, smiling and accepting backhanded compliments from those who didn't think she should have won Best Actress, but would pretend that they did. People just like Mabel, except Mabel probably was happy she lost.

"He's on a pretty impressive winning streak, isn't he?" Mabel asked, following Mary's gaze to Henry. "You must be so proud."

"Of course I am," Mary replied automatically. "He's the man, isn't he?"

* * *

"So will everyone be happy enough with the nominations, or angry that they didn't win Best Drama?" Green asked, coming over and smiling to Anna.

Anna gave him a knowing smirk. "We'll all be drunk, that's all that matters."

He laughed and nodded. "It does help to numb the disappointment, doesn't it? I got Tony to give me the day off tomorrow. I hate flying with a hangover, so I'll be in Toronto on Tuesday."

"Smart thinking," she said. "Hopefully this month won't be too bad. It's mostly studying the script before the read-through in a few weeks."

He shook his head and smiled at her. "Tony can be actually more demanding in the month before filming starts. He'll have me running around the city, I'm sure."

She laughed in understanding. "Well, let me know when you get in. Mary's pretty easy to handle in the first few weeks, so I can help you out if you need it."

"Thanks," he said warmly. "I'll definitely take you up on that."

Anna turned away and grinned as a tall man waded through the crowd and came over to her.

"Hey babes," she said, hugging Alex and kissing him. "You remember Alex Green, right? He's the P.A. for Tony Foyle."

"Yeah, yeah. We met at the Emmys right?" Alex asked, shaking Green's hand.

"Yeah. I was just telling Anna that I'm flying up to Toronto this week to get settled," Green replied, holding Alex's stare unflinchingly.

"Kind of a bad time. It's freezing, but you'll get used to it," Alex said easily. He turned to Anna, his arm still around her shoulders. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Yes, you can," she said. She gave Green a nod, then went off to the bar with her husband.

Green watched them go, a smirk on his lips. Turning away, he went off in search of that fashion intern that he noticed earlier in the night.

 **Rodeo View Suite, Beverly Wilshire Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, January 8, 2017**

Matthew slowly combed his wet hair, the steam from the shower hanging in the air. He put down the comb and washed his hands, briefly debating whether to shave, then deciding against it. Reaching up, he ran his fingers over the skin beneath his eyes. He would need to try and sleep on the plane tomorrow.

The after parties had been fun, though a bit tiring. It wasn't that he was bored of them. He had been to so few awards ceremonies in his career that he still got nervous whenever he went in, half expecting security to deny him entrance. The decor and food was always outstanding, but without being able to spend proper time with Mary, it all became a bit of a grind. Tonight, he had Alex and Anna, and Gwen and Sophie for company, as well as some executives that he'd taken meetings with recently, but he could only make casual conversation for so long. When he finally got Mary's text that they could leave, he rushed to the car. Taking off his suit and having a decent shower had given him a second wind.

At the sound of the door opening and closing, he walked out of the bathroom and through to the living room, smirking as Mary came in and sat down on the sofa. She had removed her designer dress when they got in, throwing on some jeans and a sweater. Declaring that she needed proper snacks, she ignored the minibar and went downstairs in search of crisps. He had just let her go. With the mood she was in, it was best to just keep out of her way.

Spreading her bounty across the coffee table, she looked over the different options for a moment, then decided on Cheetos and tore open the bag.

"Aunt Rosamund would not approve," he said, coming over and sitting down next to her, the leather of the sofa a touch cold against his bare back.

"Fuck her," she replied boldly before covering her mouth and bursting out laughing. She gave him a knowing wink, then popped another cheese flavoured treat into her mouth.

He shook his head in amusement and put his arm around her, pulling her back against him.

"A few snacks won't kill me," she said. "I'll just spend an extra hour on the elliptical tomorrow. Deal?"

"Sure, but then I'm not the one to say anything. I think you're gorgeous," he said, kissing her cheek lightly.

"Hmm, I probably shouldn't have too many though," she said, eating another before putting the bag back on the table. "Since the Hollywood Foreign Press thinks my acting is shit, all I've go left are my looks."

He didn't bother saying anything, knowing when a rant was coming on.

"This whole trip has been a fucking waste," she sighed, snuggling against him. "Flying all the way here, squeezing myself into that dress, having to walk with a security guard all night who thinks my jewellery is worth more than I am, and for what? Smile and applaud and seem grateful for the chance to be passed over again. 'Great job, Mary' 'Next year's yours Mary' Fucking bullshit."

"Well, if we hadn't come here, we wouldn't have been witnesses to Henry's great triumph," he said sarcastically.

"Right, of course!" she said, scoffing bitterly. "At least you don't have to work with him. He's probably already demanded that his trailer be doubled in size. The damn thing still wouldn't fit his ego."

He smiled and waited patiently.

"He still won't give any indication whether he's staying or leaving," she complained. "The script has him on the show until the finale, and they'll just change things around in the last episode if he ends up leaving."

"Would he cooperate if they decide to kill him off, or will they just start next season and explain it all happened offscreen?" he asked.

"Who's to say? Knowing Henry, he'll pretend to mull it all over, then announce he's leaving during the hiatus, just so we can bear the fans' outrage while he rides off into the sunset," she said. "What did he say to you tonight?"

"Not much. He just said hi and waited for me to congratulate him, which I did, then he was swept away by another group of admirers," he explained.

"If only I was so lucky. I could barely get away from him all night," she said.

"Tell me about it," he said, the first hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

She sighed and turned, reaching up and caressing his face. "Thank you, darling. I know I've been a total bitch tonight, it's just that seeing him up there, then losing again, and the show not winning anything else, it just…"

"Shh," he said, putting his finger to her lips. "I get it."

"It seems rather unfair that I spend most of the night with him, then dump all my whinging and complaining on you," she said, shaking her head and looking down at his lap.

He took her hand and kissed it, drawing her eyes to his. "I like it, actually. It shows me that you're comfortable with me, that you're not putting on an act. Tonight didn't go your way and you're pissed off about it. I like that you're confiding in me, that you're not just spouting some nonsense about how being nominated is good enough, or whatever."

She smiled in surprise. "Goodness, I would think such selfish behaviour would run afoul of your kind and generous sensibilities."

He chuckled and looked at her intently. "I don't want you to feel as though you need to change for me, or that there's anything you can't tell me, no matter how ugly it may be. I can only imagine what kind of pressure you're under. I don't want you to keep it all bottled up. Besides, I'm sure there will come a day when I need to unload my baggage on you, so it's only fair."

She laughed and kissed him, reaching her hands up and framing his face.

"Darling, since we're being honest, what did you think when you saw Henry kiss me before going up to accept his award?" she asked.

He tensed. "Well, I wasn't thrilled with it, but it's hardly surprising. I knew he would."

"And what about how I had to sit with him at the table all night? What about when you saw us arrive at the parties together, pose for photos side-by-side?" she asked.

He cleared his throat. "Again, that wasn't…great, but I understood why you had to do it."

"Do you? Do you really?" she asked, kissing his cheek, then moving down to his neck. "It still made you angry though, didn't it? I'm your girlfriend, not his. I shouldn't be paying him so much attention when I'm supposed to be at your side."

"Mary," he growled.

She straddled him, reaching down and yanking his towel open, rubbing herself against his bare flesh.

"You hate it, don't you?" she said, licking his ear. "You hate how I sometimes put my career ahead of you, how I'm a dutiful girlfriend when it's just the two of us together, but treat you like a stranger in public. It infuriates you. It bothers you how bad I can be. So very bad."

He groaned as her hand reached between them to take hold of him, stroking him slowly. His hands slipped beneath the waistband of her leggings and past her thong, cupping her arse and squeezing.

She smiled at his response, her breath warm, her voice smooth and silky in his ear. "Teach me a lesson, Matthew. Show me who I belong to."

"Mary!" he snarled, struggling to hold back. His heartbeat was racing, his growing arousal telling her just what an effect her words were having on him as she stroked him faster.

"Come on, Matthew," she drawled. "Fucking give it to me hard. Fuck me like that arsehole can only dream of."

He grunted harshly and reached up, one hand sliding through her hair and grasping her head, the other moving across her back and pulling her into a fierce kiss. She opened her mouth to him, letting his tongue take his plunder, moaning as her own arousal spiked. They broke apart just long enough for him to pull her sweater off and practically tear her bra off before they came together again, bare skin against bare skin, lips and tongues dueling once more. She put up token resistance before melting against him, her mind spinning at his fury. For a brief second, she wondered if goading him was such a good idea, if she could actually handle him when fully unleashed. The answer never came as he threw her on to her back and lifted her legs to his shoulders, pulling her leggings and thong off in one swift motion. All she could do was spread her legs and hang on to him as he descended upon her, taking him in as he pulled her hair and thrust in deep. Closing her eyes and arching her back, she yelled out his name, the thought that she was going to be very sore tomorrow completely obliterated by the searing pleasure that he gave her with every plunge of his hips.

Her first release took her by surprise, and he gave her no respite, the usual gentle and considerate way he was with her entirely gone. He turned her over on to her stomach, lifting her hips and taking her again, her hands grabbing hold of the arm of the sofa and hanging on desperately. His hand tugged on her hair again and she braced herself, letting out a moan as he spanked her and increased his pace. Filthy words spewed from his mouth, taunting her, demanding that she answer. She moaned and whimpered as she rocked back and forth, telling him everything he wanted to hear, reveling in the sheer power of his passion. Still, even in the throes of his ravishing, she felt his love, his devotion. She had wanted this, the roughness, the domination, the fury, wanted him to help her forget all about the disappointment of tonight, and he gave it to her, but all the while he kept her safe. His hands were firm, but not painful. His words were heated, but not demeaning. His lips were possessive, but never forceful, never unwanted. She pushed back against him, taking him completely, an ecstatic smile on her face as he sent her over again. Still, he persisted, somehow even more relentless than before.

He repositioned her again, the two of them moving somewhat awkwardly as she tried to keep up. He sat her on his lap, her back against his chest, lifting her legs up and lowering her on to him. Her head fell back on to his shoulder, her hands keeping her legs spread as he took over. She was shouting now, her drunken brain not caring who heard her. She paid him all manner of dirty compliments that would make her blush tomorrow when she remembered, but for now, it had the desired effect. He moved faster, impaling her on him, turned her head towards him and seized her mouth in a hot kiss. She shifted her hips against him on every thrust, moaning into his mouth as she took him deep.

His hands moved on her. One set of fingers played with her breast, while the other dove between her thighs. All she could do was writhe in his arms, the lurid sound of their bodies coming together filling the suite. He kissed her again just as he thrust up and let go, the feel of him shooting inside of her setting her off one last time.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, January 14, 2017**

Mary frowned as she reviewed her script, skimming over her lines, highlighter at the ready. After spending a few weeks in England, she was grateful to get back to Toronto and return to her work routine. She was no closer to finding answers on what her future held, and whether it would include _Paladin_ or Henry, but it was calming and reassuring to be back into the process, rehearsing her scenes and focusing on the season at hand. The ratings for Season 4 had been the best yet for the series, setting new records for the network. While they had been passed over for awards, there was no doubt that her association with the show was improving her profile with each episode. The early returns from critics and audience members were that this season was her finest work to date.

"What you don't seem to understand is that I don't need your approval, nor have I ever asked for it…" she recited. "Nor have I ever asked for it…I've never asked for it…I don't want it…"

Matthew came out of the bedroom and paused, taking a moment to watch her work. When they were younger, Mary always did well in school but she tended to hate subjects that she saw no use in, like maths and chemistry. She would often procrastinate, not bothering to study until she absolutely had to. When she liked a particular course, though, she would read ahead, study beyond what was assigned and even research topics outside of the curriculum. Looking at her now sitting at the dining table, script spread out before her, numerous pens and highlighters arranged neatly nearby, tablet and laptop at her fingertips just in case she wanted to Google a particular topic or delve deeper into the source material, he smiled. She was in her element, doing what she was always meant to do, and her dedication impressed him.

"How goes it?" he asked, coming over to her.

She looked up and smiled at him. "I actually like what I've read so far. They've got a few interesting twists planned, and they're having Jade and Frederick face different challenges together, as a couple, rather than break them up. The writers seem determined to make this the best season yet."

"That's promising," he noted. He walked over to one of the chairs and retrieved his winter coat. "You're sure that I can't convince you to come along up to the airport?"

She gave him a sad smile, then got up from her chair and came over to him. "Darling, please don't make me feel even worse than I already do. I'm sorry, but I have to get this down for the read-through this week."

"I know," he said, nodding glumly, the unspoken reality ignored by both of them. Truly Mary couldn't take him to the airport because she didn't want to be photographed giving him a goodbye kiss. Regardless of Henry's plans, she still felt an obligation to maintain the façade they had created. "Can we at least pretend that you came with me, though?"

She smirked at his playful eyes. "I think I can manage that."

"Well, then I guess this is goodbye," he said, taking her into his arms.

"It's only three weeks, and we'll talk every day," she said, smiling up at him. "Unless of course you're out gallivanting about town, telling all the pretty girls that you're in _Black Panther_ to impress them."

"I doubt that would work," he said, chuckling at her joke.

"Trust me, it would," she said, arching her eyebrow at him. "Such an interesting detail would put the gloss on an already very attractive package."

He swallowed and looked at her, his lips curling into a stupid looking smile. "Well, be that as it may, I'm already taken."

"You most certainly are," she said, pulling him into a kiss. Their lips parted and his tongue pressed against hers, his hands moving around to cup her bottom, drawing her closer. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, giving him a kiss that she hoped would stay in his memory until he landed in Chicago and they could have a private video chat.

"Goodbye, my darling, and such good luck!" she said cheerfully, finally stepping out of his hold.

He gave her one last peck before turning and leaving. There was still some packing to do back at his place before the car service drove him to the airport. The flight was a quick one, even with the time zone change, so they would be on the phone to each other by the end of the night.

She sat back down at the dining table and resumed her studying.

 **Optima Concord CityPlace, Downtown Toronto, Canada, January 17, 2017**

"Love what you've done with the place," Anna said wryly, glancing around the living room. The furnishings and décor were decidedly Spartan, consisting of a leather sofa and matching recliner, generic glass coffee table and the requisite television on the wall. Green hadn't changed anything since moving in, just using the furniture that came with the rental.

"I like it," Green said, smirking at her. "I'm only here for six months. What's the point of putting anything up on the walls if I'm just going to be taking them down soon enough?"

"Half a year is hardly a short stay," she noted. "Trust me, after working a 16-hour day, you want your home to feel warm and welcoming. This place is too sterile. It's like you're living in a furniture store or something, and a bad one at that."

He laughed and shook his head. "All right, fine. What would you recommend that I get? I wouldn't even know where to look. There's an IKEA here, isn't there?"

"I think we can do better than that," she said. "I'll talk to some friends of mine. They stage homes. They might have some pieces they can let you rent for a few months."

"Great. Thanks, and thanks for helping me out today. Tony gets so finicky when he goes into work mode. I got most of the stuff he wanted ahead of time, but he came up with a few new ones and I had no idea where to look," he said, shaking his head.

"It's no problem," she replied, nodding to him. "Mary gets like that too. She just bunkers down and doesn't want to be disturbed, except to eat meals. Anyway, now you'll know where to get what he wants the next time you're in a bind."

"I will, thanks to you. Now, off you go. Let me know when you hear back from your friend. No rush, yeah? I can make do with this. I don't plan on entertaining anytime soon," he joked.

She smiled and glanced over to the kitchen. "Are you sure you're all right? Your fridge was empty when I got here earlier."

"I'll grab some groceries from that store down the street," he said confidently. "Probably just heat up a frozen pizza."

She frowned at his answer. "Well that sounds quite appetizing. Why don't you come out with me? There's a few places near Cactus Club where we had your party last time. You can check the menus and see what you like."

"Oh, no, Anna, that's quite all right. Go home and have dinner with your husband. I'm good, really," he said, waving her off.

"Actually, I'm free tonight. Alex is working late and Mary's already got food that I brought her this morning," she said.

He blinked. "Oh. Well, if it's not too much trouble, I am rather lost out there so far."

She smiled and took out her phone. "No trouble at all. Come on. The first place we can go is called Drake One Fifty."

 **David Burke's Primehouse, The James Hotel, Magnificent Mile, Chicago, USA, January 20, 2017**

"Ha ha ha, now that is what I am talking about!" Michael said, rubbing his hands in anticipation as the waiter brought their food to the table.

Matthew smiled and shook his head in bewilderment as the staff placed numerous dishes on the table before them. There was a beautiful platter of oysters on the half shell, side dishes of roasted vegetables, macaroni and cheese, basil whipped potato and creamy greens. These substantial plates were just accompaniments to the main course, however, which consisted of four huge porterhouse steaks and two whole lobsters.

"Hold up," Michael announced, holding up his wine glass once the food was served and the waiters had retreated. "A toast."

Matthew and the other guests just laughed. Michael was ever the showman.

"To good friends and good food. No, wait, fuck that, that was corny, sorry. To the next big Marvel hit movie, _Black Panther_ , long anticipated and long overdue. The people ain't gonna know what to do with this movie!"

"Hear, hear," Matthew said, clinking glasses with Michael and taking a sip of the rich Merlot.

"Now dig in, dig in!" Michael announced, passing around the side dishes as one of the other guests went about trying to divide up the massive cuts of meat into actual portions.

"There's no way I'm finishing all of that," Matthew said, shaking his head as Michael slid a porterhouse towards him.

"Hey, we got leg day tomorrow. Eat up!" Michael ordered, giving Matthew a playful smirk as he popped a forkful of meat into his mouth. "Mmm, mmm, tasty."

Matthew cut a much smaller slice from his steak and took a bite. He had to admit it was delicious, absolutely cooked to perfection.

In his brief time in Chicago, he had learned that meat, and steak, in particular, was treated differently here, almost revered compared to Los Angeles and even New York. Americans loved their red meat, of course, but there was a special quality to steakhouses in Chicago, an attitude that Matthew hadn't experienced before. Since arriving here, he had become fast friends with Michael, one of the stars of the film, and the two of them had worked out together and sampled several of the city's best restaurants whenever they got the chance. Michael was partial to steak and had been saving a trip to his particular restaurant until they had a full evening to appreciate it properly.

"Told you, right?" Michael said, grinning at Matthew. "This right here is what you call a man's steak!"

Matthew reached for the roasted vegetables. It was a rather lame attempt to balance his meal, but he had to try all the same. After serving himself some vegetables, he went for the macaroni and cheese, his eyes glancing down at his phone briefly as he swapped the plates. Toronto was an hour ahead, but Mary wouldn't be off set just yet. The first week he was here, it was almost as though he had never left Toronto. Mary spent most of her time in her apartment studying her script and they chatted several times a day. He was excited to be working again, particularly on a big budget Marvel film. She smiled as he regaled her with how everything seemed to be on such an epic scale here. The massive green screen sets, the intense security to ensure everything was kept secret, even the catering options seemed excessive. He could get used to this.

Once she started working, though, he barely heard from her. Video chats were reduced to talking to her during the drive from the studio to her apartment, as she wanted to go straight to bed the moment she got home. The first few days were intense, with the read-through taking most of the day and from there she went straight into filming. He got the odd text message when she was in her trailer, but she turned her phone off while she was working, so he usually would have to wait hours before getting a reply.

He was busy himself, of course. Wanting to impress the big studio heads at Marvel and Disney, he threw himself into his work, even though his part in the movie was hardly noteworthy. If he was going to build his reputation, he needed to be known as hard-working, professional, and always prepared. The first few weeks had gone perfectly. He hadn't messed up once, was always early for call, and went out of his way to be friendly with the cast and crew. It was impossible to tell if he was actually impressing anyone, but so far, he thought things were going well.

"All right, so Matthew, I know you don't like to come out with us, but Chad found this great little jazz club. You have to come along. Chicago jazz, man! You can't be here for three weeks and not check it out!" Michael said enthusiastically.

Matthew smiled and shook his head.

"And look, I know a couple of real cute redheads that will be there, too," Michael continued, grinning knowingly.

Matthew smirked in confusion. "Why does that matter?"

"Come on, man, I saw you and that Game of Thrones chick, Sophie, yeah, I saw you and her being all friendly," Michael said. "You got a thing for redheads. That's cool. So come out with us and you might meet some."

Matthew glanced down at his phone again, seeing no new text messages or calls. Sighing, he looked back up at Michael's eager face.

"All right, just for a little bit," he agreed.

"All right, all right!" Michael said, nodding and clapping his hands. "It is on tonight!"

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, January 21, 2017**

Lady Rosamund sat in the dining room, checking her email on her tablet as the servants cleared her used luncheon dishes. She was due back in America next week, going out to Los Angeles to meet with Mary ahead of the Screen Actors Guild Awards. With awards season winding down, it had been a good few months for her niece, but not ideal. Being nominated for an Emmy, a Golden Globe and a SAG Award was impressive, but if she didn't win, the year would be a footnote, rather than the career-changing moment that she wanted. Even if Mary didn't win, if _Paladin_ won an award, that would help, too. Mary could say she was part of an award-winning show that also had great ratings in key demographics. Sadly, that elusive victory was still out there.

Putting her tablet down, she sipped her tea, looking out the large windows at the dreary overcast sky. She had come back to England to see Mama and visit with Robert and the others, and her trip to Yorkshire had been all right, with a few bad moments. Mama wasn't getting any better. She was well enough to eat meals with or take tea, even go out for walks, though it was too cold in Yorkshire now. But nothing stayed with her from one day to the next. It had taken years, but Rosamund was finally able to deal with her without becoming frustrated or angry. Conversations were kept safe, and they spent a great deal of time reminiscing. When they spoke about the past, Mama's eyes would light up, old moments and facts spilling from her lips easily and unhindered. It reminded Rosamund of her last days with her beloved Marmaduke. Her husband was quite far gone in the end, but he still remembered their wedding day, and that was how Rosamund chose to remember him – vibrant and happy. It pained her to think that she would have to do the same with Mama sometime soon, but she would then steel herself. Mama would hang around for years yet, just to make life difficult on the rest of them. Rosamund smiled at the thought, despite herself. That would be classic Mama.

"Lady Rosamund," Meade called, standing at attention at the doorway.

"Yes, Meade?" she asked lightly, turning to look at the butler. "What is it?"

"A call for you, my Lady," Meade said, stepping forward and handing her a wireless phone. "On the private line, my Lady."

"Thank you, Meade," Rosamund said crisply. She took the phone from him and frowned, waiting for the butler to leave before she stood up and put the phone to her ear.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Bomb dropping in the next half hour."

She blinked and turned away from the window, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"How big?" she asked quietly.

"Nuclear."

Her pulse jumped. "Are any of my people involved?"

"Yes. Your most important client."

She shut her eyes and cringed. Mary.

"What is it about?" she asked.

"You'll see."

She opened her eyes and stared at the antique wood and glass cabinets on the far wall where her fine china was on display. Of course he couldn't give out much in the way of details. She struggled, knowing the call was almost at an end.

"Is it bad?" she asked.

"Very."

The informant hung up before she could say anything else. She set the phone down and picked up her tablet. She paid him to give her whatever advance notice he could on exclusives that his paper was about to drop. Her fingers shook as she opened up a browser and went to the Daily Mail website, her eyes wide as she scanned over the pages, terrified of what headline she might find.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, January 21, 2017**

"Here," Anna said, pouring Mary's green concoction and sliding the glass over to her. "I don't know how you can drink that."

"I try not to smell it, or think about what's in it," Mary said, drinking down half the glass then groaning in disgust. "God, that's horrid."

"And yet so good for you, apparently," Anna said, sipping her orange juice. "I put fresh towels in the guest bathroom for you."

"Thanks," Mary said, finishing her drink.

With Alex away on business and Matthew in Chicago, she had decided to stay with Anna for a few days. It was easier for them to go to the studio together, and she didn't like the idea of Anna being in her big house by herself. With filming of Season 5 well under way, they ate most of their meals together anyway, and Alex's home gym was more than sufficient for her purposes. This morning, they had woken up to a relatively mild day, and so Mary had insisted they go for a run outside. The opulent neighbourhood was quiet and empty on the weekend, and they took a soak in the hot tub when they got back. It was nice hanging out like this, just the two of them. It reminded Mary of the early days when they first arrived. Alex was around back then, but it was usually just her and Anna, doing their best to build a career, before expectations and the politics of show business changed everything.

"How's Matthew?" Anna asked.

"He's great," Mary said, nodding her head. "He's got one more week on set. He'll be coming back to Toronto from Los Angeles with us after the SAG Awards. I can't wait to have him back in the city. I know I've been so busy that all I do is sleep when we're not at the studio, but I miss him. The other day I snuck over to his place and stole one of his shirts to sleep in."

Anna laughed incredulously. "Wow."

"I know," Mary groaned. "I'm hopeless. He's got his hooks into me now. It's ridiculous."

Anna smiled and finished her orange juice. "Well, you're free for the rest of the day. Any ideas?"

"I think a mild weather day like today calls for shopping," Mary declared.

"Sounds good. I need to shower and check in with Alex, so we can leave around noon," Anna said.

"Perfect," Mary said, getting up from her chair and following Anna down the hall to the foyer.

They were interrupted by their phones buzzing at the same time.

"It's Lady Rosamund," Anna noted, looking at her phone screen.

"Why is she calling both of us?" Mary asked, bringing the phone to her ear and answering the call. "Yes, hello?"

 **Deluxe Guest Room, The Westin Chicago River North, Chicago, Illinois, USA, January 21, 2017**

Matthew blinked, his vision filling with the ceiling of his hotel room. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, groaning as he tried to wake up. The jazz club that Michael and Chad had brought him to last night was fantastic. The atmosphere was dark and intimate, the décor old and dated, the music outstanding and the clientele young and beautiful. It was something out of another era, and there were even stories that Al Capone used to own the place. Chad and Michael had regaled him with explanations of the intricacies of jazz and blues music, and he sat patiently and enjoyed it all. It was refreshing to be in a place with two rather famous actors and not be recognized or bothered.

As predicted, there were a number of gorgeous women in the place, college students out for a night of music and drinking, bar regulars dressed immaculately and a few tourists who had heard of the club online. Even though he got more than a few inquiring looks, he stayed seated, drank his gin and tonic, and enjoyed the music. When Michael tried to get him to go to a nightclub later on, he declined, taking an Uber back to his hotel.

He opened his eyes and turned on to his side, the warm duvet and soft sheets caressing him delightfully. Mary had worked late last night so they could only trade text messages before she went to bed. He missed her fiercely. She would have loved the jazz bar last night. He closed his eyes and smiled, an image coming to his mind of her sitting on his lap, the two of them drinking gin and enjoying the slow throb of the music.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself, his body already responding to thoughts of Mary. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his phone and the television remote, hoping there was a football match that he could watch to distract him. He could take a shower, but he expected that would only make him think of Mary even more.

Seeing no new messages on his phone, he turned on the television and flipped through the channels. American networks didn't carry many European matches, and there was nothing on this morning that he wanted to watch. Settling on a news channel, he put the remote down and lay back in bed, thoughts of Mary filtering into his mind once more.

His hand drifted beneath the duvet, his eyes closing as he pictured her vividly. Not being able to hold her, to touch her for the past three weeks had been torture. Even when they had their more risqué video chats, it didn't feel nearly the same. The SAG Awards could not get here soon enough.

Before he could act on the lurid thoughts in his mind, his eyes opened and he looked up at the screen. Sitting up in bed, he frowned at the photo on the television as the news anchor spoke with a serious tone.

 _'Our top story – shocking news out of London today as the Daily Mail newspaper is running a story on Golden Globe-winning actor Henry Talbot. The star of the acclaimed series, Paladin, was caught on video smoking what appears to be glass pipe at a party in his hotel room in Australia. Talbot was recently in Australia filming the highly-anticipated film, Thor:Ragnarok. Citing anonymous sources, the Daily Mail reports that Talbot would routinely throw wild parties during his time in Australia, and that female strippers and escorts were involved, as well as drugs, including marijuana, crystal meth and cocaine. According to the Daily Mail, Talbot's wild partying ways were not limited to Australia, and they have confirmed through anonymous sources that he engaged in similar activity in London, Paris and notably, Toronto, where Paladin is filmed. There has been no response from Talbot's camp, or from that of his co-star and rumoured girlfriend, Mary Crawley. This video puts the spotlight firmly back on the temptations and pitfalls of Hollywood, at a time when the networks and studios are trying to portray themselves as more professional and distance themselves from the sex and drugs celebrity lifestyle of past decades that claimed the lives of so many actors and actresses. We're going to be following this throughout the day as more details emerge. For now, let's bring in our panel and talk about what this means going forward for everyone involved...'_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Many thanks to _AmeriGirlTN_ for the prompt that inspired this story. It's been shocking and amusing to come up with another modern AU saga for Mary and Matthew when I thought that I was just about done after finishing _Gangs of London_. The title of the story came to me rather unexpectedly, and it refers to not only the unseasonably warm weather that we get more often these days, but also the idea that Mary and Matthew found each other again and enjoyed happy days for the past six-month period. Now that winter has truly arrived in the story, it felt right to end it here, as the tone and theme of the plot will now shift. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited this story. I always am grateful to see readers old and new give one of my stories a chance. For those willing to come along for the rest of this ride, the story will now continue in the sequel, _Stormbraver_.


End file.
